Scissors
by docponystine
Summary: What happens when a confused Star decides to jailbreak her magic Scissors to try and enter detentions otherwise to dangerous? Nothing good for her and Marco, that is for certain. (This is a ship fic, Starco. Will try to put out chapters with at least 1 - 3 thousands words bi weekly)
1. Chapter 1: Dream

Spinning round and round an axis between the two bodies in the red night glow, the heat of the underworld and something else, a odd inner warmth, causing beads of sweat to lightly dribble down the fair forehead of the princess, a dazed expression on her face. The eyes she looked into were familiar, but strange, as if, under that moon's glow, she was seeing him in the light of day for the first time, but that was preposterous. She didn't know anyone like this, at least she didn't think so, it was hard to tell.

The stranger softly speaks her name, Star. It shocks the princess, blasting her out of the stupor that held her, "h-how do you know my name?" Giving a wide grin, he chuckles lightly, continuing the dance, the crowd of monsters and beasts fading away, the heat of hell replaced by the radiant warmth of the two bodies, oh so close to each other.

"You know who I am," he says with a smile, "and I know you, my sweet little star." He leans in, letting his forehead press into her's, the sombrero on his head lifting up slightly so the pair's flesh would touch, sending a cold tingle down Star's back. The stranger's head turns, their lips inching closer and closer together, hot breath caressing her face gently. So painfully, so slowly they come together, the anticipation for contact beginning to mount in the alien girl.

With a sudden start Star pushes the masked man off, his dapper trappings melting away into a plain hoodie that blended in with the crimson moonlight. She stares dumbly at her friend, "M-marco?"

Star wakes with a start, lurching up. As she rises, her body slumped over the side of the bed unceremoniously, she loses her balances and falls onto her back with a loud thud and a small groan. Turning, she pushes back up onto her feet and blindly gropes out into the dim night until she finds the light switch. With a click of the switch she finds herself still in the dark. With a light chuckle she raises her night blinders off of her face, flinching a bit at the sudden light, her eyes quickly adjusting.

She stretches tiredly, her night gown rising to expose her ankles to the cold winter air. A small design failure of her room was the lack of modern heating, and her fire had gone out in the night. Groaning, she sits back down onto her bed, bouncing up slightly as it recoils.

Feeling herself blushing, she sighs in frustration. At this point she wasn't sure how many times she had dreamed of that dance. It wasn't a nightly event, but nevertheless at least once a week she would vividly remember dreaming about the blood moon ball, her mind conjuring the same fantasy over and over again.

Rolling over she let her hands move to rub her eyes and cover her face. She didn't only dream about Marco, she thinks, her blush deepening as she calls to mind some of the more salacious dreams she had had about various other people, but they were all wild and strange, full of flying cupcakes and rainbows. These, well, they were tame, polite, almost shy. She rolled her tongue in her mouth, contemplating it, before sitting up slowly and looking over at her clock with half laden eyes.

"Midnight," she mumbles, "to early." She tries to flop back onto her bed, a large pillow clutched close by her whole body, but she simply rolls back restlessly moments later, an uncomfortable warmth preventing her from getting the sleep she wanted.

She gave a long, languid groan. Every night she had the dream it was like this, waking up with an annoying blush and the inability to return to sleep. Sitting up, she shakes her head gently before wrapping herself up and stepping to her balcony. She gives a light shiver, but soon sports a wide smile as she watches the first snowfall of the season flutter down lightly. She stands there, her mind turning over and over again, trying to discern why she was feeling the way she did. Her and Marco were friends, right? That was all.

It had all started after her encounter with Toffee, she shudders his face flashing back to her with that wide, psychotic grin. She had never felt genuine fear like she had that day, she almost watched her best friend be reduced to a mash. "Could that be why..." she starts to ask idly, her thought trailing off slowly.

Eventually, with a deep shiver from the brisk winter gale, Star moves back inside, closing the glass door to the outside behind her. Chucking her moist blanket to the side, she picked up her wand and did what she always did on nights like this, read the spell book. Glossaryck, thankfully, was asleep. Having a living glossary, while often useful, wasn't particularly helpful when your goal is to understand the nature of the wand as a whole. Staring sadly at the wand, Star clutched it tightly, still having no idea what effects it was having on the ancient artifact.

Slowly she moved to the last page she had read. Even with all of the sleepless nights she had only read through a handful of pages, both due to the sheer complexity of the magical script from the first owner and her own attention span. From time to time she would try to test spells, and they - mostly - succeeded, or at least didn't fail horribly. An hour in she found an odd passage on magic scissors.

"'Jail break the safeties on a pair of dimensional scissors', intriguing" she says with a excited squeak sparks of her natural demeanor appearing in her face, finally finding something interesting in the overly boring tome. The page was old, but most of the information was still there. The language was odd, but similar enough to present day Mewnin that Star could struggle through it, "it seems that dimensional scissors are made with a set of built in safety features to prevent entering extremely dangerous realms," she parrots off, "but, right now in my need, I have chosen to forgo those limitations for the sake of this land." She smiles deviously, "sounds wonderful." The smile fades slightly as a little voice prods at her, telling her that this might not be the best of plans; the last time she played with fire, she got burned.

Her face steles as she stands, her massive hair bouncing as she snatches her scissors from the night stand and placing them onto the table. "I am not afraid," she says loudly, "Restrictas Ulimitoos Domainos." Star points her wand to the target of her defiance, a blast of green energy enveloping them, causing them to rise slowly to the air.


	2. Chapter 2: Gremlins

The still night sleep was suddenly shattered by a resounding crack, like a thunderclap ringing through the house. Marco, who mumbles idly from his drooling lips about one miss Jackie, shots up in fright, the colossal boom shaking him from his midnight slumber. While certainly neither the first nor the rudest way he has been woken in the night, Marko still moved with urgency and haste.

In a flash he moves from his room, the door closing behind him as he steps into the second floor hall. An odd green glow leaks from behind the hardwood door to Star's tower, bathing the hall in a dim emerald tint. The door seems to bow inward from some unseen force, the heavy wood creaking and groaning loudly under its stress.

Soft slaps accompany the light weight's trek across the hall, the door to the room swinging open roughly. A sudden suction pulls at him, forcing Marco to grab onto the door frame as the door itself flap widely in the faux windstorm. In the center of the room was a green rip in space, sucking in papers, random objects and even the bed towards it.

"Marco!" Star calls out, hanging onto the banister as her nightgown flaps wildly, her body completely horizontal. "Strange meeting you here."

Marco looks at her with a dejected expression, one that said this was in no way unusual. "What did you even do Star," he shouts over the roar of the rip that threatens to drown him out.

"Well, I found a spell to jailbreak the scissors, and well, you can see what happened." She grins excitedly, "but you're here, which means that we can kick this adventure off." How dangerous could it be on the other side of the portal, in any case Star was well prepared to find out. She lets go of the banister, turning around to wave Marco into it before being swallowed in the green glow.

"Star," he shouts before giving a long sigh. Breathing deeply, he gathers himself, then, letting go of the door frame, he dives into the portal himself. As soon as his body passes through the gate it closes, leaving the room in complete disarray.

Marco lands into a soft patch of grass with a loud thump, his body turning over multiple times before finally coming to a stop feet before where an elated Star stands. "Wow," she says, quickly clamoring up a tall rock to get a better view of the area.

Marco stands shakily, clutching his stomach as he fights with a sudden fit of motion sickness. He dry heaves a few times before straightening out to see exactly what Star seemed so captivated by.

Before the pair lays something so magnificently story book that it forces a dumb smile onto the ill teen. "Wow is right," he says, looking over the bright meadow covered in flows that created a spectrum of color that seem to shift and shimmer with the light breeze. The temperature was balmily, but pleasant, the sun sitting high in the sky.

"I know," Star says, that's what I said." She places her hands above her eyes to help peer over the distance. "It's like it goes on forever, and it's so pretty. Oh, look at that," she says, pointing to the distance, a silver castle jutting out over the plains at the delta of three shimmering rivers. The flat terrain made it difficult to dicier the true distance, but it couldn't have been too far. "Let's go there!" Star says, hopping down from the rock. With a wave and a smile she suddenly starts to move, "and the spell said this place would be dangerous."

Marco begins after her, "hey, wait Star. Maybe we should just head back for now, given we're working on half night's rest."

She chuckles and blushes a bit, "I couldn't sleep anyway, so don't be lame and come on." She continues on with quick strides, Marco following behind, knowing he was safer with her than without her.

"Why did you even do what ever it is you did?" He calls out, running to catch up with the princess, "couldn't you have done anything else?"

"That would have been boring, and you know how I feel about boring." Skipping down through the field of bring flowers she begins to hum a happy little song. "Come on, not even you are stingy enough to not love this."

Marco blusters a little, panting as he tries to keep up. "Yes, very pretty, but under the circumstance I feel like we should head home." He looks around worriedly, "I mean, we don't even have shoes, and you don't have your little devil headband thing."

"You think I'm going to go back just for my headband? Instead of this? If this is what meets us at the door anything could be here." She stops and begins to daydream slightly, ideas of ridable seahorses, nice dragons (she heard a song about one of those, a sweet little Puff), and maple syrup rivers. "Come on," she says, grabbing Marco's wrist and starting to barrel through the field, dragging the poor green belt with her, "I want to know who lives in that castle."

"If these were poppies, I'd suggest a farce," he says dryly as he vainly attempts to resist the super humanly strong Star, his heels digging uselessly into the dirt.

Star looks back with a little bit of confusion, "What do poppies have to do with anything Marco? That's just silly. Besides, first you learn is to never take poppies from someone. This is basic stuff."

Marco sighs. "I was talking, never mind," he says, catching himself. Clever allusion tend to fly over Star's head, all things considered she wasn't a big reader on Mew, and the last time they tried to watch a movie they got kicked out of the public theater, the concept of staying quiet for two or more hours not particularly appealing to Star.

"You're just being a spoil sport and can't admit I did something right on the first try for once." She looks back and sticks her tongue out at Marco.

"Not even, I'm just worried. You said that this should be dangerous."

"Well given that this spell is centuries old, it is possible the dimensions that were locked off are nice now. I mean, who in their right mind would lock of a land of flowers away?"

"Who would think a group of fairies would be a tyrannical set of mine bosses? If've learned anything from you it's that cute things are terrifying."

The pair start down a slight decline heading towards a shimmering crystal lake, the flowers slowly shifting from a rainbow to a more consistent teal hue as they approach. On the lake a small house stands over looking a dainty dock. From the distance a form can be seen casting a line out into the lake. A wooden dike stands to the north damming up the river's southern flow.

"Look at that! It's a cute little lake shack!" Star says with a grin, her pace picking up as her grin seems to grow to absurd sizes.

"Yeah, and it looks like someone is already living there, so maybe we should just head home and come back later," Marco pleads.

"What's with you Marco, you love adventure."

He sighs, "I'm very, very tired and am working on a half night's sleep, so yeah."

"Well get over yourself, I'm ready and raring to go." They continue down until the house comes into clearer view. From the outside a group of five dwarfish creatures conglomerate. They wear suspenders that cover their stout body, leaving their piggish faces on display. Small tusks grow from their lower jaw. The skin on the beasts varies, but they are all dull, muted colors ranging from green to red, from yellow to puce.

"Look at this Gerald, we have some visitors,

Some very curious inquisitors."

The leading monster says, waving to his friends.

Another, presumably Gerald, steps up at the end.

"Aye, I wonder why the come to out place?

Perhaps they wish a change of space.

Or maybe they seek shelter

From the Sickly Skelter."

He knocks his finger against his fat chin,

wondering what had brought them to him and his kin.

"They look not like our kind,

Perhaps mysteries they seek to find.

What do you think Keek?

What is it you suppose they seek?"

A third of them walks up

Hands holding his chin in a cup

"Tis nothing to me for you see

Time is a precious commodity."

Gerald grunted with a dismissive sigh

Turning around to see who might try

"How about you Kevin, our undertaker,

Why have these two come as seekers."

Kevin looked up from a hole in the Earth,

Thundering up to show his impressive girth.

"I take little stock in the living,

My concerns lie among the death things."

All throughout the gremlins' conversation Star begins to bristle with excitement before bursting forth and interrupting the midgets, all of which barely stood to her thigh. "Marco, look at this!" She cries, "they're little rhyming goblins!" She takes him, looking intently into his eyes, "rhyming. Goblins."

Before Marco could respond,

The Goblins moved from the pond.

Those before the pair clutched their ears

Trying to block what they hear.

"Little missy, with voice so sheer,

Why do you threaten what we hold dear."

Gerald says, a pained, twisted smile on his face

Trying to take the deepest of pain with grace.

Marco frowns, picking up quickly exactly where this was going, but the ever impulsive Star gave no such thought. "My voice isn't sheer, what ever is it you mean by that."

"Star," Marco tries to interrupt, "I don't think..."

"Shhhh, Marco I'm talking," she interjects almost immediately. "I'm talking with the very nice rhyming goblins."

Of course, by then it was to late

Her blathering had sealed their fate.

The gremlins, once so idle

Now stood tall and fetal.

Naught less than eight feet tall they towered

Their moods all so very soured.

The pair's eyes go wide in fright,

Marco backing off, breaking Star's might.

"Little miss," it booms, "what dreadful noise you make.

Now die, for all our sake!"

The not-so-dwarfish dwarf cries into the sky

Making the crows and the sparrows fly.

His brothers all begin to shift

Their flesh bubble and rip.

Still further the pair peddle away,

Knowing it would not be wise to stay.

With a flash another charges forth,

The pair barely able to change course.

"Not so fast, little men.

There is no avoiding this most bitter end."

"This is bad," Marco says, "this is why I wanted to go home. Maybe sleep the day and watch the Republican debate tonight." He keeps his eyes open, hands up defensively. With a hard crack his hand smashes into the gremlin nearest to him, but his blow seems to leave the beast unfazed, Marco's hand screaming in pain.

"Nonsense," she says, taking out her wand, "we can handle them. I mean, they're only three feet taller than you. Besides, why would you even want to watch those debates. From what you've told me it all sounds really boring."

The quintuplet of baddies soon move in around then,

Each bearing the strength of ten great men.

One swats at Star, only to be grappled in an counter attack

The little girl flipping the beast onto its massive back.

The one who Marco failed to harm

Seeks to do the same to the man's arm.

Trying to take it in his grip,

Flesh intending to bit ripped,

Marco barely slips away,

Very happy to be okay.

Marco ducks and weaves about the beast

Trying to find what was protected least.

Deftly he climbs up its body,

His face morphing to something cocky.

With a hard smash and a thundering clap

The tiny man strikes where one would wear a hat

The beast stagers and begins to claw,

Trying to move the menace to his maw.

"Insufferable whelp!

Can't even die without my help."

Marco, sensing his plight

Began to ardently fight with all his might.

Grunting and groaning he pulled away,

His intention no longer to stay.

Still, during this masterful melee,

The tiny girl would have the beast shout "mayday."

In her strong grip, she would toss them,

With a mighty heave condemn

To a slumber taken on by force

To later awake all the worse.

Three of the beasties she felled

Nary a second her wand held.

All by her strength and prowess

Her martial might did this princess

Did this princess ward the lumbering beasts,

Did she banish the great Cretans to the east.

The final two, knowing the fates

Both abandoned their struggle post haste.

Like children they ran from the battered Marco,

Not wanting to antagonize Star or her co.

Marco pants, laying flat to the grass, chest heaving up and down rhythmically. Star plops herself by his head, beads of sweat gently rolling from her forehead, dark patches appearing on her nightgown from the sudden excursion. "The reason I want to watch the debates," he heaves, "is so I can be an educated citizen. You're taking civics with me, you know that right?"

Blinking, Star stares blankly, trying to recall. "Oh right, I thought that was a class on, like, court etiquette. I kind of already know all that stuff so I just tune it out most of the time. Besides, all of that is really, and I mean really boring." She begins in a mock, stuffy voice, "When greeting foreign dignitaries refer to them by their tittle and last name, not 'Mr. Insectiod' regardless of how much the moniker may 'fit.'"

Marco just gives a small sigh, sitting up slowly and rubbing the back of, his now aching, neck. "Right, I should have figured you would think like that. I'm not certain how it is on Mewni, though I can take a guess that it's not exactly like it is on earth. Just for context, one of our early leaders was an orphan child born to a poor family name, kind of a jerk, but an orphan none the less."

Star laughs, "oh, you're always funny Marco. An orphan peasant being king." She hops to her feet, suddenly grasping Marco by the wrist to pull him up. "Come on, we still got a few miles to cover before we reach that castle."


	3. Chapter 3: Miasma

_Never fear, never fear, for I am here. Never fear, never fear, don't shed a tear. A pair of forlorn faces this way come. I know them better than some, better than themselves, though not better than the other. I know them not from what they were, nor understand who they are meant to be, but I understand what they are. What they are when with me. Like skittering, scattering insects many have fled, fleeing the marked path of the magistrate. The balancer, cloaked anointer. From his form the people rush, always disturbing my delightful hush. Into the lands I threw them, to that grey death I fed them, for if fear is what grips them then let fear be their master. For what is a home beside the device to break the grasp of terror. Those who reject its still sanctuary only beg to be thrown to the wolf pack. This time will be different, they are different._

The pair, once again moving forward after the unfortunate opposition of the gremlins, trek across the field of varied flowers. Each gust of wind sends waves down the sea of pedals, creating a stunning ripple of colors and blotches, making the princess' eyes widen with continued amazement, finding each moment in the land better than the last. Insects with prismatic colors flutter into the air, bathing the area bout them in light tinged as if flowing a stained glass window, creating a constant show of lights and arial grace.

As the pair walk towards the towering castle it soon becomes clear that the grand mansion work was only the head of the area. At the base of the ivory white tower lies a sprawling township, viewable from the crest of a nearby hill. It seemed strange that not long ago the grand castle itself seemed only a small building on the horizon, but in a mere hours travel has become a grander kingdom of its own. It was like the each glance at the imposing settlement only made it grow, as of trying to decide exactly what shape it wished to take. This inconsistency irked at the back of Marco's mind, but his sore body made it hard to focus through the distracting surroundings, let alone pull together the oddity of the sight.

"This place keeps getting better," Star says with a childlike look of wonder on her face, lights of pinks and reds dancing across her pale face. "This place is absolutely amazing, you know, minus the killer goblins, but we took care of them no problem." She gives a bit of a apologizing smile, "Come on, you aren't still mad at me. I said it was just an accident. How could I know they weren't fans of prose."

Marco gives a sigh, hand still resting on his side as it cramps up in an aching pain. "It's fine," he lies, his eyes glancing away. He desperately didn't want to get in a fight with Star, but those things were out of his league and it was hard not to blame her for it. He knew it was childish to think that way, but it didn't help the annoyance he felt, if she had only spent a moment more listening.

Star gave a smaller smile before turning back around, getting the sense that it wouldn't go well to press the issue. She tried to be more weary of Marco, she just some times forgot he had limits that were so much lower than her's. He could run with her, but not sprint. She supposed that was remarkable in and of itself, he always seemed so much competent than the other humans she knew, so much, well, better.

The duo continued on in relative silence as the sun began to climb higher into the sky. As noon crept onto them the field began the morph. In a wave the varied flower began to shift and morph into a sea of red spinally tendrils. Marco and Star both watched in a giddy amazement as the wave of change swept over them. "Wow Star," he says, "I guess you were right. This place is amazing." He gave her a genuine grin, before bending down to look over the flowers. "I think they're spider lilies," he says picking one gently. They were a tall flower with a long stem. He picks another, "they look lovely."

Star nodded, beaming not only from the shift, but from Marco's change of attitude as well. "I know I'm right," she says jokingly as she continues on, her eyes glancing over the sea of blood red blooms. "I wonder if this happens every day," she ponders out loud.

Marco shrugs, her hands beginning to work steadily on the spider lily stems, curling and braiding them together. "Beats me, though it would be cool if it did." He walked a few steps behind Star who was oblivious to the craft Marco had began. "Maybe this place isn't so bad. It makes you wonder why it was sealed away."

Star looks around and ponders that for a while, "maybe things have changed since they sealed it away. It could have been horrible and dangerous a long time ago, but things can change after so long."

For nearly a half hour the pair walked and chatted idly, Marco slowly working on his little craft until they seemed to pass from the field into a plot of farmland. The pair step onto a dirt pathway moving through the land. To either side of them people can be seen working on what look to be rice fields fed by a nearby river.

"It looks like a pretty normal place so far," Marco comments before catching up with Star. "Also," he says fishing out his craft. It was a little crown, two lilies sitting by where either ear would be. "Here, I know you don't have your headbands, so this might help with your, uh, copious hair."

Star takes it, trying to suppress a small blush. "You didn't have to do that Marco," she says putting it on. She really could have just conjured a new one, and some new cloths for that matter, but she thought it was sweet that Marco went through the trouble of making it. "You know, it course to me that maybe we should get a change of cloths."

Marco looks down, "right, you can do that. No dresses this time, and no pink. The girly-est I'll go is a midnight purple." He crosses his arms with this resolution, as if to strengthen his statement.

"Just give me a second," Star says, pulling out her wand. She points it at Marco first after taking in her surroundings. The farmers dressed a lot like the farmers in her kingdom, so maybe something that a banker would wear would be good.

Giving a short chant, Star blasts Marco, sending a blinding flash. As it dies the boy's new dress could be seen. He wore a crimson double breasted suit vest with a white pin stripped under shirt. Over that was a dull brown jacket. On his feet were a nice pair of dress shoes and he wore a black pair of pants with broad, dark grey vertical stripes.

Looking over himself he gave a smile, "wow, fancy. I'm only missing a top hat and I'd be just right to meet the queen." He took a few steps, "and they move well, which is always a plus. Shame there isn't a sweatshirt though."

Star gives a light chuckle, "I think you need to expand your wardrobe, plus it suits you, very professional." She looks at herself before giving a short incantation, the wand giving off a similar flash. When it dulls, she stands wearing a short, mildly frilled dress of a dull teal hue. It seems to be strapless, but it's hard to tell due to the short teal borleo jacket. She has flats on, an odd exception from her normal choice of boots.

She gave a little twirl, "how do I look Marco? It reminds me of some of the stuff in my old wardrobe. Just a bit stuffy, but it has a lot of freedom to move in."

Marco's face flushes slightly, "yeah, it looks great on you."

Star grins, "well come on then slowpoke. The castle town is only a little ways away from here." She almost immediately starts off down the dirt path once again. Her eyes watch the people she walks by, they seem a bit generic, the princess swearing she had seen a few of the same people but at different plots. She thought nothing of it though.

Before long they reach the large outer gates. Standing before the wooden gate are two guards in what looks like a type of light plate. The armor consisted mostly of a vest made into three sections of steel strips. They look like they would fold behind one another slightly to allow the wearer to bend down. Pauldron and elbow pieces protect the joints, along with leather gloves, the legs are covered in greaves that rise to the knees and a section covering the thigh. A chain mail coif flows from the open faced helmet to protect the neck and head.

They move to rest their hands onto their weapons. The one to the right, a grizzled looking man with a mussed grey beard and long scar across his cheek speaks first. "Hold there, state your business."

The one on the left, a much younger looking lad chuckles, "isn't it obvious, they're obviously of noble blood. Some big shoots must have lost their heirs. I bet you ten copper they tried to elope and resized 'taint nothing to elope to."

"Samuel," the older one barks, "pay some respect to them. They obviously look weary, and if they did come from the out lands we best pray they only traveled during the day." He looks down at the pair, hand moving from his weapon, "so then, what brings you to the outer gates, instead of being inside the walls. Farmlands are safer than most places, but there are all sorts of seedy types looking to take advantage of wondering nobles."

Samuel crosses his arm dismissively as Marco starts, "Yeah, that's right. We're nobles who, uh, tried to elope." Star immediately blushes a cherry red, causing the younger guard to snicker under his breath.

"Just hope you didn't go basket making with the poor girl, I know I would loath to be in a position like that and have to come crawling back to her father." Star's face only deepens further, trying not to shoot Marco a glare. His society was a frank one, which made her doubt the idea that he understood what they were saying.

Marco was about to start before the old gentleman interrupts again, much to the cherry red Star's relief, "Enough Samuel, such matters are nothing of our concern, let alone rightful to talk about in front of a lady." He sighed, "We're just supposed to try and weed out suspicious types, but mimics rarely have the ability to get their hands on such fine cloths." He chuckles lightly, "Watch yourself in the outer ring, though, there are quite a few people who would be more than willing to relieve you of any excess wears." He turns and moves over to the side of the gate, opening up a small wooden door, "no sense opening the gates for just the two of ya'." He opens it wide, stepping in and waving for the two to follow. As Marco passes, he leans in, whispering, "and just a word of advice, it is generally a poor plan to elope from Miasma."

The pair move though the stone hall to the other side, Star taking short, quick steps, her head locked into looking forward. "What's the mater Star," Marco says catching up. He looks at her, noting her tomato cheeks. "Why are you blushing so deeply, I mean, that went rather well."

She huffs, "Marco, I know you meant well, but you have no idea what's going on here. This place is a lot like Mewni, and not at all like earth. I'm actually surprised you don't know what elope means."

The hallway seems to go on for an oddly long time, much longer than it looked from the outside. Marco simply chalked it up to the gate being towards the front of a very thick wall.

Marco shakes his head, the two of them nearing the other end of the passage. "Nope, why?"

She sighs, "it means to run away and get married, and basket weaving," she stops, "well, that's uh. You know, that." She pokes her fingers together nervously, trying not to look at Marco.

"Wha-" Marco turns beat red in a flash, "oh. Uh, maybe you should be in charge of talking to people while we're here."

"Good plan," she says with a mild tone of sarcasm before swinging open the second door and stepping out onto the cobblestone path.

The outer ring was a slum, and absolute slum. The buildings were packed close together and in shambles. Beggars were on every corner of the dreary grey street. The road swerves and moves erratically through the town. The houses were mostly pitched with tar or thatch roofs, most of them had broken windows, if they had windows.

"Well," Star says, "If I were to wager a guess, it's going to be a lot harder to get out of the outer ring than it was to get in." She looks around, "We'll probably need to find a way to gain passage to the upper city."

Marco looks at her, "then why don't we just head home then. If the most interesting thing we can see is a slum then I don't think it's a good idea to stick around. Especially given the fact that a lot of these people probably want to shank us and take our cloths."

Star sighs, "fine, but we're coming back some other time." She reaches down to her side and her face goes white. "Oh no, oh no no no no no no no." She opens up her bag and searches it quickly, "they're gone."

Marco looks at her in shock, "you don't mean."

"Yes I mean," she says in a panic, the scissors are gone. I had them, before you woke up I picked them up off the ground. Where are they!" She panics, pulling out her wand and digging through the bag, though pointlessly given those were the only two things in there.

Marco's face drains of color, "Oh man Star, this is bad. How will we get back?"

Star pulls the bag over her shoulder, steeling herself. "This place was sealed off, so that has to mean people came here at some point, which also means there are probably scissors here." She gives a false smile, "we'll find them, maybe even our own pair, it shouldn't be too bad."

Marco tried to calm down, "right." He couldn't afford to get angry, at this point he was pretty certain they needed to stick together if either of them wanted to get out of this. "Yeah, we'll get through this."

Star looks a bit relieved, happy that Marco didn't get angry. She berates herself internally, but outwardly tries to stay on top of everything. "That's the spirit," she says, "now it's been a few hours, why don't we look for something to eat. Chances of there being some sort of bar or pub around is rather high, and most of them have actual food in them." She glances at Marco, "I spent some time in the lower castles on Mewni. I know how things work here."

Marco just shrugged, "But we don't have any money to actually buy anything, unless you intend to dine and dash."

Star stopped to think, her hearts turning to spinning cogs. "It's still rather early in the day, we might be able to find someplace to work in, maybe an inn would be willing to give room and board for a day of work."

Nodding, Marco agrees, "seems like it's at least worth a shot. I really would prefer to avoid starving on the first day we're here."

The pair start off, trying to find any place that might use them. At about the fifth seedy in they are finally given a chance. The owner is a broad, fat man. He wears an apron stained in old blood over a tattered linen shirt. "'Taint going to question why ya' are in the outer ring, but I'm short staffed. Lazy worker took the day off trying to make some butter with a few of the gals from last night." He hands Marco a basket with an apron and Star only an apron, "so it's your lucky day. Twig boy, buss the tables and make sure everything is clear of vomit, makes people lose their appetite. You, heart girl, wash the dishes twig boy brings in. If either of you dally you'll wish you spent the night on the street." He turns and heads back behind the bar, grumbling something about noble brats.

Marco looks over to Star and slips on the apron, "well, at least it's something. Means we have a place to stay for the night and some food. We can get better situated in the morning."

"Yeah, this should do for now."

The pair move off to do their separate tasks, Star moving to a small courtyard with a water pump and Marco moving busily among the bar patrons and booths. The smell of the service area is atrocious, an air of stale liquor and greasy food cause Marco to gag. The men in the bar seem to run the gamut from lank sulkers to broad, boisterous brutes.

A particularly nasty group of men set at the far end of the bar, their drunken crooning filling the rest of the tavern with horrid, off key notes. From what Marco heads from their legible conversation, much of what they "say" are merely drunken slurs, it appears that they are a band of mercenaries or something similar.

"Ha," one slurs out, "you think that's something? Wait to y'all hear this." He raises the mug to his grimy face before continuing with a rude burp. "So, I just got finished havin' a tiff with some busty farmer's daughter, a real dairy cow, and I find that wraiths have flooded into the field. The specters start to come after me, but I wasn't intendin' to let 'em get ta' me. Drawin' my blade I strike at the baddies, shredding them to bits, bony bits and their blood slathering onto the farmland." He holds up his thick arm for all to see.

One of the others calls out, "aye, how many were there? Any hunter worth his salt can take on a wraith."

"Why, I'll tell you. Twas at least a hundred of the things, all surrounding the farm house. Not a single sword arm beside mine for a mile."

"I call horse shit," one of them says, "ain't nothing but a lie. I mean, ain't no way in hell some cow going to go for a ugly ass like yourself. Wait, scratch that, not even a mule would take ya', couldn't even muster enough coin to get a whore to do it."

"Why I aughta'," he starts, standing up to show off his tall, powerful form.

"Sit down Clarence," the barman says, slamming his knife into the counter top. "If you want to fight do it outside. I don't need you raising hell in my bar." His eyes narrow down at Marco, who was listening to the whole affair, "and you, runt, get those dishes back to ya' woman before I find a better occupation for her."

Marco flinches and quickly hurries to the back door, giving a quick yes sir as he does. He swears he hears the large man mutter "bitch" as he scurries off.

In the courtyard it is obvious Star made use of her wand, though in a notably less extravagant way than one would expect. The dishes were floating along as Star sat off to the side, keeping half an eye on the process. "Man, this place seems pretty rough and tumble," Marco comments, setting down the basket full of wooden plates and tankards.

Star shrugs, "Reminds me of the lower city on Mewni. It's just as crass at least." She takes the basket and mutters something and gives a wave of her wand, bathing them in a shower of hearts and pink glow, causing the dishes to move with the rest.

"You know you're getting really good at using that wand Star. When you first got her such a tame spell would have been hard to pull off."

She smiles, "There's a lot of technical information at the start of the spell book. The first owner seems to have been the best educated on the wands exact abilities, not to mention she was by far the most organized out of the authors." She looks up to the sky from the small, building enclosed courtyard, her feet crunching the stale grass, "I don't like this place Marco."

Marco's face twists into a little frown as he watches Star stare off into the darkening twilight sky. "I think I agree with you, this place feels odd somehow. Maybe it's just because it's a slum."

"That's not it," she says slowly. "I don't know, my wand feels weird here. Everything feels weird here." She shakes her head before putting a smile back onto her face, "what ever, I think the feeling's passed. We still have a lot of work to do to get ourselves back home, so head back out there and get cleaning."


	4. Chapter 4: Nightmare

_Dreams, the plaything of the subconscious, the clay by which one's thoughts, one's fears, one's dreams molds its perception of the world. Little is known to why they sleep, and as such I know little about why they dreams, but I do know the power of dreams. They are raw perception, reality cast aside to present the extreme emotional responses through symbolism both direct and indirect. Every worry, every faint fear pushed to the back of the head during the course of the day, each hope let lose as a pack of dogs to destroy and build in the safety of fantasy._

***Transition***

After what seemed like the longest day of his life, Marco starts off up the stairs, shedding his apron as he walks. Star keeps close behind, having a much easier time than the bus boy. With a sigh Marco opens up the bedroom to inspect what was inside.

Like much of the tavern, the room was in shoddy condition. Only a single bed was located next to a splintered nightstand. A small lamp sits on the stand, a flint and steel resting by it, barley visible in deepening summer twilight. A short rug rested at the foot of the bed, just large enough for someone to lay on. There was only one blanket and pillow resting on the hay mattress and the entire room smelled faintly of stale sex.

"Of course there's only one bed," Marco grunts, straightening out his back with a small crack. "So I suppose you should have it Star."

She shakes her head, "no, my day was pretty easy, given I did it with magic. You should take it, you need the rest more than I do Marco." She smiles, "besides, it wouldn't be the first time I've slept on a hard surface, I've done a lot of camping."

Marco tries to protest, but Star cuts him off, "Come on, just take it. I'll be fine." She looks over at the bed, "Just give me the pillow and we'll call it even. It's warm enough that I shouldn't need a blanket."

Marco relents, tossing her the pillow. "Fine, I'll take the bed." He climbs in, rolling up the blanket to make a simple head rest for himself, "Good night Star."

Star lays over the rug, facing to the ceiling as the last of the late day light filters through the window, "goodnight Marco."

***Transition***

Yet again Star found herself in the Dream with mysterious dancer. Yet something felt strange, something felt cold. Instead of the uncomfortable heat that normally permeated her body during the romantic dance a chill was running up her body. Every eye felt like a needle prick on her skin, the hair raising on her neck, goose bumps on her skin becoming pronounced.

She pushes back against the man, leaving him grasping out for her in surprise. Quickly she turns and darts into the crowd, her world becoming a hazy mess of bodies and blurring faces of the underworld denizens. Something pushes, no, pulls at her and she tries to resist, running from the creeping terror in her body. Star tries to understand, to grasp at what this feeling is, this absolute, unknown fear. Something so irrational and strange that she understands the futility of running, yet runs anyways. The fear, such a completely encompassing specter of dread, leads her to run, and run, and run until she finds herself in a circle.

In the center of the clearing of jackals and ghouls and other monsters stands a familiar grin. The scaly mail that made the green skin of the beast was cracked into a cocky, half smile. His fingerless hand moves to adjust the red tie, the other running through his hair. "Wonderful to see you again Star."

The gripping dread only deepens further, the princesses breathing quickening. He was dead, he had to be dead, nothing could have survived that blast. Wordlessly she turns to sprint through the crowd, but it turns out to be a fruitless exercise as she finds herself on the other side of the exact same clearing.

Toffee turns, "don't run." He grin widens, "we have so much to discuss." He takes steps towards the girl, who moves to back into the crowd, but the bodies are too close together, acting as a wall barring her with the scaled maniac in the arena of bodies.

With a misty breath everything shifts again, Toffee sitting at the head of a table, slowly cutting into a meaty steak, cold eyes piercing through Star's soul. Star tries to rise, to run, to do anything, but her arms seem to be glued to the arms of the chair, her eyes forced to gaze across the table which seemed miles wide.

"Are you afraid Star?" He grins, "of course you are, though I think there is something missing." He looks into the glass case, the chair inside empty, void. With a sigh Toffee looks back, "is he safe? Is he ever safe?"

Star digs her nails into the wooden chair, the air around the table plummeting. "Let me go Toffee! I don't have time to play games!"

"Of course you don't, who knows how long he has without you," he says, but not from his body across the way. It came from directly behind the girl, sending a jolt to run down her spine. With a jerking spin the chair rotates, Toffee stopping it. He hunches over Star, eyes level to each others, his cold hands tightly gripping the end of the chair's arm. "It seems you don't have your wand," He grins, holding it up in front of her face, the star in the center intact. "You know I'm the one who wins."

Star glares up, mustering her courage in the face of the unnatural terror that creeps through her, but he was right, she didn't have her wand. She didn't have the strength to help herself, let alone others. With a growls she tries to resist against the malevolent force acting against her, the oppressive sensations keeping her down.

Toffee grins, stepping back with the wand in tow, "you still haven't told me why you're afraid, little girl. Can you even answer?" He spins on his heel, griping each end of the wand in his hand, whispering gently to it. "Here," he says, tossing it back to her, the star beginning to lose its color. "Take it." With a wicked grin he continues into the darkness, disappearing from the scene.

Star begins to panic, trying to wiggle herself free from the chair as the hum and glow from the wand grows. "Bastard!" She shouts, "Snake!" She defiantly struggles, sweat beading down her face, but it was all for naught. Before she could move the wand went off, blinding Star, sending a searing pain across her body.

Clack, the ivory piece glides across the board, white opening with a center pawn. Star's hand moves in response, opening with the right knight. White responds, pieces moving as if controlled by a ghost. Thoughtlessly Star responds, not even certain what she was doing.

"Who are you playing," a voice asks. It was cold, measured and dark. The baritone comes from all around, but simultaneously sounding singular and contained.

Star moves the piece, "I'm not certain." She looks at the table across from her. All she sees is a blackness and an empty chair made of dark wood, lovingly inlaid with gold leaf.

"Why are you playing," it asks, Stars eyes scanning around to find the voice as it speaks. "Why play no one?"

Star shakes her head, "It isn't no one. I just don't know who."

"Is it Toffee? Marco? Your mother?"

Star looks harder at the empty chair, a phantasm of her opponent beginning to appear before her. The longer she focuses, the clearer she becomes, but a pain in her head slowly builds with it. With a grunt, she looks away, blinking multiple times. "It hurts, I can't see who it is."

"Try harder. You can see, but you chose to be blind. You know the answer, but force yourself to be ignorant."

The pieces clack against the wooden board again, white takes black bishop. She looks back again, her mind filling with a fiery pain. White takes black rook, white takes black pawn, black takes white pawn, black enters check. The pieces click and clack around the board as Star stares at her foe.

The misty body slowly solidifies, features slowly growing. The face was pale and soft, but the eyes absent, glossy and white. Her blond hair flows far down her back, her royal blue dress torn and tattered. The pain subsides as the image completes itself, a mirror of Star.

White takes black queen, checkmate.

The board resets, the game beginning again, playing exactly the same way as the last. The voice speaks, "who are you playing against Star Butterfly."

She shakes her head, blinking to try to dismiss the trick before her. "Myself," she says slowly, her voice pensive, "no, part of me." She moves her hand, but differently from any of the other games, black takes white rook.

A dark cackle emanates from the darkness, the rumbling voice resonating through Star. "Reality, perception, abstraction, and then symbolism. These are your symbols." A rushing wind begins to pick up, blowing up a dust storm in the room, "but what else is there to see?"

The storm becomes blinding, stinging, and coarse, each moment under its baleful gale a flurry of pain. Star raises her hands to shield her face, coughing and hacking before kneeling over and out of her chair. As the storm, dies she finds herself in yet another place.

She rests at the base of a grassy hill, crimson shimmering in the full moon's light. At the crest of the hill, looking forward with her back turned was a tall woman, her body full and powerful. A raven braid of hair rolled down to the base of her spine. Her body was covered in an ebony plate inlaid with golden leaf, scabbard buckled behind her back. In her right hand was a long, thin blade, a small drip pushing off the tip in time with an unheard, morbid rhythm.

Star felt a pang of guilt as she looked at the figure, but even more than that a strange attraction. She understood that she should be afraid, but something about the way the figure stood, how her ivory skin glowed in the glow of the moon, that made her a peculiar comfort to Star.

Star tries to walk up the hill, but find every step she takes is stolen back by the land. The hill seems to stretch forever, yet the form stood mere yards away. "Hey," Star calls, trying to gain the woman's attention.

The woman turns her head, dark red eyes piercing through Star, stopping her dead. "Tell me, Star Butterfly, what covers my blade?" She holds it, letting the red stains it bares glint in the moonlight. "The way is free, follow if you wish." With a flick of her wrist, she sheds the viscous liquid from her sword and sheaths it. Taking steps over the crest of the hill, the form disappears from sight, leaving Star in thought.

Suddenly her mind realizes what covers the hill, suddenly becoming nauseous. The red sunrise glow illuminates the colors more clearly. Splatterings of blood cover the hill. Star jumps back, but slips and tumbles downward, her white dress staining in both green and crimson, her hair knotting and jumbling into a mess.

The hill transforms and morphs into a castle hall, but one of warmth and color, not the cold stone of Ludo's dwelling. The roll slows as she reaches the bottom her dress has several tears in it and is stained irrevocably red.

She rises, clutching her head and taking in the location. There was a long table of masked men and women, speaking calmly and eating daintily from a prepared feast. At the head of the table, in a grand velvet throne, sits a woman of small frame, her mask holding back any truths of her. She wore a tightly held grey dress with filling frills and complex trimmings and trappings. The mask itself was the grandest in the room, inlayed with silver and gems. The finest part of it was the only part of the striking woman's face not covered by the mask, her eyes. They were a piercing gold, shimmering in the firelight of the dining hall.

On the other end of the dining table was the only party goer without a mask. Her deep red locks were cut short, but hung about her head messily. Her eyes, a dull brown, had more life in the, than any other Star had seen. She ate with a ferocity the other member lacked, clearly enjoying the food laid before her. Her dress was the same dull red as her hair, but of a plainer sort than her counterpart. It would best be described as a cocktail dress, having only one strap on her shoulder for support. She, unlike the rest of the party, laughed fully, and would, only for brief moments, have other guest lower their masks for her.

It took no time for the guests to see the intrusion, but they all ignored it, the most recognition Star received was the occasional glance. Star tried to find a door, but none existed in the room. Seeing no other option she watched on to the diner.

After a few minutes of quiet talking and eating a light ringing rang out. The golden eyed woman has clashed her fork into her crystal wine glass, calling the precession to attention. "We have all gathered here today for a mater of utmost importance. The future of our realm is being shaped at this very moment."

The red woman smiled and stood with her, taking control, "it is. These truly are crucial moments, undeniably so." She gives a sultry glare to the gold woman.

"Passions!" Declares the leader of the party, a resounding crack punctuating her words. The table began to slip, ever so slightly, running from the golden woman's head down a few inches.

"Let me speak Pressures!" Passions declares, another cracking noise filling the air as a similar wound to the table moves from her. "You have me in this court, you will listen to me."

"Passions, you are here for ceremony, for show. There is no true place for you here." The crack grows wider and longer, inching its way to the other woman from Pressures.

"As is that mask," she states, "remove it, and I might be compelled to sit, if it suited me." The damage widens, inching to the center point.

"Absolutely not. It is disgusting enough you are allowed to run rampant even in the court rooms, I will not let you see my face as well."

The cracks, mere inches from one another, continue to grow, the room beginning to growl and rumble. "Then I suppose you have made your choices Pressures."

"There is never a choice to make Passions." Pressures turns from the table, walking quickly away, finding a mew door by her wall, Passions follows suit and moves in the opposite direction. The other guest all got up, shimmering out slowly, leaving only the cracked table behind.

"Who are you, Star Butterfly?" A voice says from somewhere out of sight. It was the same voice as with the chess game. "Is there even an answer to that question?"

Star looked around, trying to find the voice. The room had darkened as the other guest left, leaving Star alone. When she looks back at the table a single candle was lit at its center, a single figure across from the dim light. The flickers sent long shadows across the wooden floor, and the light gave nothing of the man's character beyond the large coat he wore.

"Is the butterfly meant to sore? Or are its wings to be clipped, set up for display in a crystal cupboard?" The man shifts in his seat, lifting his head to reveal parts of his face. His eyes were black as pitch, his face white as snow. His face, bony, and slim, fashions itself into a cold glare, aiming directly at Star.

Something about the man's presence was fundamentally unsettling, the room dropping several degrees in temperature. His hand, boney and long, reaches up to his face, rubbing at his chin slowly. With a flick of his wrist, he extends his finger out to point at Star before drawing it back. A force tugs angrily at Star as response, dragging her into an out turned chair before swiveling her to face the man.

The man says nothing, merely looking over Star in contemplative silence. "This will do," he says slowly after some time. Her removes his trench coat, revealing a pressed suit of black and white, a bright red tie jumping from his otherwise muted color pallet.

"Who are you," Star asks, her voice shaky. Something just rose off of the man, as if he weren't alive, his foot halfway to the grave, but still he emanated an uncomfortable aura of power and control, an oppressive ray of energy beyond explanation.

"Not you," he says cryptically, "that should be all you need to know if you've been paying attention."

Star looks into the man's eyes, "then what should I call you?"

"For right now you can call me The Seeker." His eyes never leave Star, never once blinking.

With a shiver, Star continues, "All right Seeker, where are we?"

"Take some time to think about this place, what has happened and you'll find yourself with more questions for the next time we meet, but for right now I have seen all I need to." He stands straight and begins to move away from the table. "It will be a challenge," he warns before fading away, leaving Star truly alone.


	5. Chapter 5: Bulwark

_Two stand in the center, one yearns for the power to not be a burden, the other wishes for the power to lift any hardship, yet both walk together, the strings of many emotions tying them together. As they stand together in me, they stood together outside of me. Mayhaps they, together, might stay here intertwined for a lifetime. Even now, though, a force pushes against my walls like the swelling tide of a raging sea, fully intent on shattering my fortifications, but I shall not let it. I will not let him steal my family._

The sun flows through the tattered drapes, motes of dust filling the air with light speckles, enveloping the room in a dingy haze. Star awakes with beads of sweat dripping lightly from her forehead, the nightmare of the night prior drifting quickly out of her mind, leaving her with an empty discomfort.

She clutches her head gently, running her hands up her face to peel back the blonde locks resting in front of her eyes. She sits up, her back cracking painfully with a pop, her face twisting into a pained scowl before settling back into a more neutral expression.

Marco snored softly above her, chest slowly heaving up and down with long, deep breaths. She watched him sleep for a moment, a bit of guilt welling up inside her before looking away. She had to focus right now, try and find a way out of the mess she's gotten them both into, a task without good prospects. She rests her head on the foot board of the poorly made bed, considering her predicament.

She groans in frustration, resisting the urge to put her fist through the splintered bed frame, or at least try to. "I shouldn't have been so stupid," she mumbles under her breath, trying to mind Marco's slumber. Her hands instinctively guild the wand to her mouth as she begins to idly chew on it, molars grinding along the artifact. Her mind turns and turns, like an engine trying desperately to start, but outside of a miracle there was no way she was finding those scissors.

She turns to face the bed, watching Marco with a pitiful look on her face. "I'm sorry Marco," she whispers, "but I think I really Stared it up this time." She bites her lower lip, her mind wandering a bit. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, staying here. She was certain they would be able to fend for themselves. She would be free of the responsibilities of her title, her face furrows into a frown, but that also meant she wouldn't see her family again. Marco wouldn't either.

She turns away, could he forgive her for something like that? Her eyes well up slightly, she wouldn't know what to do if she was stuck here alone, with absolutely nobody. Marco helped keep her straight, kept her company, was her friend. She breaths in a deep, ragged breath, calming the welling despair building inside her gut, sitting and thinking was only making things worse.

She stands, wiping away the tears that had rolled down her face and rubbing the sorrow from her eyes. The door swings open and Star steps through it, taking caution to keep the old wood quiet.

From the upper balcony of the inn she could see a few people sitting about the various tables, all picking away at a rather meager looking breakfast of bread and ale. The denizens of the pub are a rough looking lot, many of whom seem either to be in poverty (given by their dress) or in some sort of gang, or, most likely, both. Though one of the many patrons stood out, a rather straggly looking old woman wrapped in a dingy purple shawl. Strains of white hair scatter about her face as she slowly fiddles with a deck of cards. Her eyes wander to look directly to Star's, the cold blue orbs piercing through her, sending an unsettling chill down her spins. The crone smiles, tapping the desk against the table and motioning towards an empty chair.

Star moves down the way, the stair creaking even under her light step. She watches the woman as she approaches, the woman's wrinkled features oddly unsettling, yet, despite this, she continued until she found herself in the seat.

"Morning young woman," she says with a toothy smile, her hands continuing to constantly shuffle the faded deck. "I should thank you for coming to see such a disgruntled old woman." Looks up to her eyes, "not many give an old widow the attention they need." She bridges the deck with a cascading sound, "will you indulge a woman of her superstitions as well?"

Star watches the old hands nimbly handle the cards, "I, uh, what do you mean?"

She chuckles, "I want to read your fortune, well, a fortune of a sort. I don't see the future, I read the past and the present." Her hands still placing the deck onto the table face down, "the cards can tell me about anyone, where they have been and where they are."

"But they can't see the future," she says with a weak chuckle, "I find the only mystic who can't read the future."

The old hag gives a small laugh, "there isn't a mystic in the land who can read the future, oh believe me all of them claim they can, but they're all quite wrong." She brushes her silver hair back, "so what do you say young lady, at worst you learn what you already know."

Star nods, "I suppose it couldn't hurt."

The hag grins, "well then, draw three cards from the deck and place them in one pile, then three more and put them in a second pile, then do that just one more time all face down."

Star does so, slowly drawing from the old deck of cards. The hag takes the first pile and places it directly between them, "now let's see the roads you have walked." She flips the top card of the pile, revealing the ace of cups. "You came from fortune, of great station or of wealth," she smiles, "I can see it in your dress as well. What brings a noble to the outer ring to speak with me? No matter, all roads lead to their ends."

She takes the second card of the pile, revealing the fool. "A free spirit," she flips the final card, revealing the nine of swords, but upside down, "but caged. What caged you young lady?"

Star stifles in her seat, becoming suddenly rather uncomfortable, "I was," she stops, searching for the words she needed. "The pressures of my station. I'm not meant for court life."

The woman gives a small smile, "this isn't the first time I've heard of a restless noble going wayward for the freedom of the poor, though few last long." She looks back to the cards, "though I have a feeling about you."

The next pile is brought to the center, the last three cards brushed to the side unceremoniously. She flips all three cards at once, the world, the lovers and a reversed eight of swords. "My, there have been many a event of recent date for you. You left, I can only assume from nobility, and went somewhere else. In doing so you found love, affection." She grins, watching Star face turn into a blush, " I wonder where he is, or she, young maidens often find such 'affections'."

Star begins to speak, her words coming out as flustered denials. "Shush now, I was young once, ages ago." The woman's smile fades out as she takes the last card. "This change was not without hardships, one from an unexpected source. I can tell, it was not from the person you met, but from somewhere else entirely." She brushes the cards aside.

She flips the final three cards, the tower, the devil, and the moon. The woman raises a hand to her mouth, "this is," she starts. "This is quite the reading. Your world is on fire." She quickly collects all the cards, "it isn't my place to ask details, but I hope whatever comes of this will be something of a comfort."

Star gives a half hearted smile, her eyes looking away, "yeah." She looks at the woman, "can I ask for a bit of help? Is there any way I would be able to track down a specific item, it's small and I think it was stolen."

The woman nods, "you could go the guilds and contract just about any of them, though some might be better for finding something than others." Her hands start to idly shuffle the tarot deck, "if you have the money I would suggest you talk to the merchant's guild in the middle ring. They have a knack for finding anything, for a price, of course."

Star nods slightly, "thank you, for the reading as well." Star moves to stand, the chair scooting out from under her, "take care." She walks off, feeling the pounding in her chest, her recent anxieties brought back to the forefront of her mind, but along with it was a glimmer of hope.

She made her way back up to her room, opening up the door slowly to check on Marco, who still slumbers with heavy snores. He lies face down into the pillow, his hair mussed and jagged from turning in the night. He's adorable. Star's face becomes flush a bit at the thought and moves to sit at his side, looking down at him before sighing gently. "Wake up Marco," she says, shaking his body gently, "I think I know what to do."

Marco groans and turns onto his back, arm moving to rest across his eyes. "Ten more minutes," he mumbles in a groggy tone.

Star moves and tugs on his ear quickly, startling Marco. "Come on, I think I know how we can get ourselves out of this mess," she hopes, at least.

Marco jumps at the sudden, if light, pain in his ear, sitting up with a start. He looks at Star with a sigh, "you do? Well that's good to hear." He stretches, apparently having striped out of everything but his pants and button up during the night, his coat and vest hanging off the bed post.

Star nods, stepping off the bed, "apparently there is a merchant's guild in this city that has the ability to track down more specific items. If it was stolen it will probably end up within their reach."

Marco begins to pull on his vest, fiddling with his buttons slowly. "Right, then I suppose we should head out and try to find the building, though I doubt they'll be willing to find the scissors for free." He slings the jacket behind his back and stands, running a hand through his hair in a vain attempt to fix the mussed locks.

The pair of them make their way from the inn into the almost deserted street. The early summer wind blows against them, sending a slight shiver down Star's body. "If I had to hazard a guess," Marco says, looking about the dejected slum, "I would think that a merchant's guild would be in the nicer part of the city." He looks around slowly, eventually pointing towards a mason-works wall further into the city. The grey cobble rose high above most of the shabby buildings, casting a foreboding shadow in the low sun's light. "I would guess it's beyond that wall."

"The woman said that it was in the middle ring," Star adds, looking towards the monolithic structure. She frowns, "She also said we would probably need money if we wanted to get anything done."

Marco sighs, "so you mean we still have nothing?"

Star ponders this for a moment, "no, we have a goal, and a goal is better than nothing." She starts to grin, "I think we can find a way to make some money somewhere," she looks back to the in with a knowing smirk, "and it tends to be that pubs and inns are where odd jobs are put up. Public bounties as well." She takes Marco and drags him back into the inn with a renewed sense of vigor, "come on Marco, let's become bounty hunters!"

It didn't take long for the excited girl to find the job board along the far wall, parchment tacked to it, haphazardly advertising everything from the most mundane job (patching an old man's roof) to things much more adventurous (spelunking through a cave in search of an ancient relic). Wasting no time, Star makes her way to the board and starts grazing over the notices quickly as Marco steps up behind her.

Star turns suddenly, foisting it into Marco's face. "Here, we can totally do this one." She is nearly jumping, making it hard for Marco to read the yellow paper.

The bounty depicted a hastily drawn image of a shadowy looking figure looming over a hillside. It simply says 'Wraith Attacks Along the Southern Farmlands' and was commissioned by a small community in that area called Bulwark. It had a reasonable reward (at least so far as Marco could make out based on the other contracts on the board); Marco gave a small nod of agreement, "well we have to start somewhere."

Star folds the paper quickly, "this is going to be so much fun. I would do stuff like this all the time on Mewni, though never for money." She shrugs, "guess I didn't need it then." She grins, "but now I get to have fun and work on getting us home."

Marco grinned a little, Star's infectious spirit helping chase away some of the gloom. "Alright, it seems like something we can handle, all things considered we've dealt with some pretty serious trouble in the past."

The pair check how far they would need to go and manage to pester the bar owner to give them old water skins and light traveling food on the grounds that they would pay him back with the reward money (with generous interest).

The pair had made their way out of the city's front gates without much issue, the guards either not needing to or simply not wanting to vet every person exiting the city. The farm lands directly outside the walls were already rather busy with work, wives tending to small animal houses and the men and children starting to work the fields.

Signs along the dirt roadways gave direction towards the small community they were heading to. Bulwark lies thirty miles to the south, probably a nine hour walk if they keep a brisk pace, thirteen if they dally along the way. The field is a combination of farmland and swaths of flowers, all a melancholy blue in the early morning sun.

As the pair inch out away from the gothic city walls the path they follow becomes increasingly il-used. Barely ten minutes into their journey, just after the first crossroads, the path starts to fade slightly, grass and flowers encroaching on it inch by inch. Thankfully, however, the path is never completely lost, making finding the town a relatively easy task.

"Marco," Star starts, her excitement beginning to dim as they walked on. "I'm sorry, for this I mean." She gave a glance at the back of Marco's head, stepping quickly to reach his side. "I never wanted this to turn out so badly."

Marco gave a small sigh, pushing down the bits of resentment he felt. "We're in this situation together," he said, looking back with a kindly smile, "we'll get through it just like everything else." His mind wandered to Ludo's castle, "besides, we've definitely been through worse." He straightens his gaze, "any how, it's a long walk to Bulwark."

Bulwark seemed to mostly be a small fort surrounded by a six foot wooden stockade. At each corner of the walls stood a small watch town that looked over the surrounding pastureland, which was full of what appeared to be blue wooled rams. A guard minding the northern wall gave a call downward as the pair approached the encampment, signaling for the wooden gates to open.

The enter inside, the full court yard coming into view. The main building was a plain structure with little in the way of fancy trappings. In front of it was a set of target dummies where a rather young officer shot bolts with inconstant grouping. To the left was a second, larger building running along the entire east side of the fort.

A guard rushes down from the gate, his light plate clattering as he moves. "Aye, you there. What the 'ell are you doing on the southern border?" The man speaks in a thick accent that was absent inside the city.

Star speaks first, "We're responding to a job request."

The guard chuckles at this, "and what is it you actually plan on doing? No matter, if you die we 'aven't got ta pay ya'." He waves the forward, wasting no time in leading them to the main building, "Captain's guna to bust ta blood vessel when he sees you lot."

The man leads them through the main building before pointing to an old wooden door, wishing the pair of them luck with a cheeky snicker.

Star gives Marco a look and shrugs, "Better make a good first impression." She opens the door, stepping inside slowly.

A man paces within the room, his black leather boots clattering against the creaking wood over and over again. He was deeply tan, his skin an olive hue, and his head was topped with a messy mop of grey hair. His face was chiseled and angular, but not untouched by the wrinkles of age. His chin had rough stubble running as a five-o'clock shadow. Across his left eye ran an old scar, coming from the top left and ending at the start of his nose. His other eye was a deep blue, intently looking towards the worn paint on the floor boards. He was adorned in a light leather vest, metal studs patterned across it to accommodate chainmail, if the need arose for it, and to his side was a thin sword, the hilt finely crafted with a intricate, geometric design stretching across the scratched and scuffed cage. He stands tall, easily clearing six feet, his upper body broad and well kept. He stops dead as he hears the old door creak, turning his one good eye to the new visitors with a deathly glare. "Who are you?"

His voice, firm and commanding, froze Marco dead in place. "We're here to answer your job," Star says quickly.

"You have to be fucking with me," he seethes under his breath. "A pair of teenagers is all I can pick up after two months of waiting!" He places his fingers to the arch of his nose sighing, "out in the ass end of no wear with half as many men as I should have to guard this pile of ram dung and a requisition budget so small that I only manage to attract two brats." He looks up, giving a defeated sigh, "whatever. The blood will be on your own hands if you fuck this up."

He makes his way to his desk, sitting back with a thunk, "I am Brigadier General Hannibal Lee. I am the military leader of the southern border district and commander of the Bulwark military base. If you take this job you answer to me and only me, you will sleep in the barracks, you will eat in my mess, you will respect me or be discharged so fast that you'll reach the capital in ten minutes and your ass will be aflame. You will not fraternize with my soldiers, male or female. I have made it clear to them that if they fraternize with any commissionaires there will be sever reproductions. If you harm any civilian, any civilians property or livestock I will personally send you back to the capital in irons, and I will do it with the largest grudge you can wrap your minds around fueled by an intense hatred of incident reports." He bends down, his good eye staring directly at Star, "Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

Star nods, suddenly reminded of her castle guard's captain. "Crystal," she says without so much as a flinch.

Hannibal pulls back and steps behind his battered deck, motioning to seats to the side of the room. "Pull those over, I need to fill out some paperwork and debrief you on the specifics of the job."

Star grabs chairs for the both of them, Marco, still looking a bit shaken, sits down and tentatively raises a hand.

Hannibal barely looks up as Star tries to hold in a snicker. "Does this look like a school house son? Spit it out if you have a question."

Marco drops his hand, a nervous look on his face. "I, un, was just wondering why a one star general commands a small military base. Shouldn't you be at Miasma?"

Hannibal's grip tightens around the quill he uses to scratch out the details of the pair's arrival, looking up slowly. "The short answer is that I'm far enough away that I won't be able to embarrass the rest of senate, but close enough that they can call on me when they inevitably need me. The longer story amounts to the fact that everyone in Miasma's senate is petty." He looks back down, "age, name, years experience in this line of work."

Star answers for the both of them, "My name is Star Butterfly, fourteen years old with about seven years experience." Hannibal looks up, raising an eyebrow, "and this is Marco Diaz, also fourteen, but with only one year of experience."

Hannibal gives a short chuckle, "it's good to know at least one of you knows what you're doing." He slips the paper to the side and looks up at them both, silently judging them for a moment. "Things are normally calm here along the southern border, given the lack of any foreign powers to our south at least, but we do suffer from erratic monster attacks. Mostly wraiths and the occasional mimic." He clears his throat, digging through his desk draw before pulling out a small satchel. "However, in recent months those attacks have been steadily coming more frequently and with greater ferocity. The wraiths attack nearly every night and I need hands to see if I can track down what's riled them." He sighs, "my soldiers are exhausted and I can't get reinforcements for another month at the earliest. That's where you come in. I can't so flagrantly risk the lives of my men on an expedition to the forest, but what I can risk is the lives of two mercenaries. If you come back alive then my problem is solved, if you don't I might be able to use your deaths as justification for the severity of the situation."

Marco gives Star a worried glance, then looks back to Hannibal. "I see," she says. "Well you won't be needing any reinforcements. Just point me in the right direction and I'll get it done."

Hannibal gives a hearty laugh, "well it's good to know you're confident in yourselves. You should rest now, I'll need your hands defending in the evening. After which you should set off into the forest. I doubt you'll find anything of value during the day." He stands, "so, unless there are any outstanding questions you should see yourselves out. The mess and the bunks are open to you, I suggest you make use of them."

Star shakes her head, standing up to leave. Marco follows suit, stepping behind Star as she makes her way out of the room. Once outside, she turns to her, "Star, this might be too much."

She shushes him, "come on, we've dealt with worse things than a scary forest. I mean, you have dealt with exactly a scary forest before with nothing but a fanny pack."

Beginning to protest in vain Marco agrees, "I suppose you're right, but I'm still uncomfortable with the way he phrased our usefulness. He didn't have all that much confidence in us, which seems to make this mission out as rather dangerous."

Star starts bounding ahead, turning to talk while walking backwards. "Come on Marco you're missing the point. Now we get to show him wrong." She stops as her eyes fall onto a figure both familiar and alien. His skin is that of ivory, his hair a bleached white. The eyes gliding across the page are red, like blood, his face thin and long with a large, birdish nose. He wears a robe black as pitch, and that blackness spread. Like lightning it shot to Star.

Then, a thud resounds through the wooden hall.

Author's Note - I am sorry this took so long, but life happened rather unexpectedly, making me either too busy or too tired to write. Beyond that there was a week where I had absolutely no idea where to go with this chapter. I knew what I wanted to do, but I wasn't certain how to frame it well.


	6. Chapter 6: Doubts

_I find myself at an interesting impasse. Those that lie before me strike images into me of those whom I have long loathed, yet I feel nothing but sadness for some reason. I thought I had found it within myself to hate, to despise, yet now, looking at this familiar stranger, I find myself returning to an old sense of loyalty. No, not loyalty, perhaps it would be better described as nostalgia, a love lost. One in particular I find myself dwelling on, watching the movements of a stranger inside the mind of another and having myself brought back to places I had long driven out of my memory. Love lost, not love forgotten, can I not even find solace in resentment?_

Books. A warm light floods the hall of books, creating dancing shadows from flickering fire. Shelves towered up to the high ceiling, all filled with nameless books. Ladders lean against the cases, allowing the high shelves to be reached.

In the center of the thin hall sits Star, surrounded by loose papers and toppled books, the shelve to her left having been made bare. Groaning out, she rubs her head as blood pumps and throbs through it. She rises, pushing a few tomes off of her body. As she looks down, she finds herself in her normal attire, the teal dress looking gloomy in the dull candle light. The light sound of turning pages glides through the quiet air.

Star stands up slowly, her body aching, feeling tender, as if she had been bruised. She takes a step, but falters, a hand catching a shelf for support as her world begins to spin, nausea beginning to overtake her. The jarring vertigo subsides after a moment, but leaves her knees weak and shaking. She keeps tight grip on the shelf as small claps against the hard stone signals her slow, plodding progress forward towards the source of light down the hall. Her feet were like stone, her body heavy and she didn't understand why. Even if she had crashed into that shelf it wouldn't do something like this to her.

She rounds a corner into a large, circular opening. The area adorns itself with small round tables, each with a center candle. Books lie open, as if their readers had left very suddenly, save for one table. Sitting with a stack of books as high as he was tall was Seeker. His Ivory hands shone like lamps in the light, though his face still seemed to hide in a book. "I suggest you sit," he says slowly, his voice apathetic and calm, "I doubt you can stand easily right now."

Star makes her way slowly towards the table, eyes locking onto the figure. Her hands fall. Onto the back of a chair, which slips and tumbles to the ground. Plummeting with it, Star finds her shoulder cracking into the hard floor with a crash, the wind being knocked out of her.

"I told you to sit," Seeker says, raising a hand to right both Star and the chair, setting the girl down gently into it. He beckons with his finger, dragging the chair smoothly across the floor until it sits across from him. "You need to rest," he says coldly, "your mind is suffering."

Star breaths heavily, finding herself unable to keep breath, no matter how hard she tried, as if she had just ran a marathon. "What," she pants out, a tightness gripping her chest, "does that even mean."

"I wasn't expecting this," he says, ignoring Star's inquiry altogether, "The tale being told is not one I would have figured. I seem to have complicated the narrative to the point where it sees that such a flagrant action as the ideal course of action." He turns, placing the book into one pile before bringing another to his face, maintaining concealment of his features.  
"Can you answer my question," Star says, head lying back into the hard wooden chair, chest heaving slowly. "I feel like I've just been bucked off a unicorn."

"The short answer is that you're being attacked," he said, "and there is little I can do about that save for preventing the outcome. Unfortunately, that also means you'll be here until he gives up or tires himself out. That also means that this process is going to be a prolonged and painful one."

"You still aren't answering my question," she says, a twinge of annoyance in her voice.

"I've told you enough that you can figure the rest out. It isn't my fault that years of monster fighting have rendered you dense." Star raises an eyebrow at him. "Your life," he says in a rather disinterested tone, "reminds me of another girl I once met. Makes me wonder exactly who you are. I suppose I should make clear that I mean who you will be. Will you be the queen you were meant to be? A general, perhaps, a fierce warrior? Or will you die a beast, slave to the highs of blood? Perhaps you might even be a god? No one can tell. Even a weaver of lies sometimes tells the truth, 'nobody can see the future'."

"Stop babbling," she breathes out, sitting up to look over the books before her. She opens one slowly, beginning to read. It spun a familiar tale, her own. "What are these?" She says, pushing it away, her body to tired to muster enough surprise.

"They are you in word," he says slowly. "You aren't particularly bright, are you? I suppose I should know the answer to that. Take a moment and ask yourself where we are, be open to the truth."

Star looks around slowly, clutching her neck as a shooting pain runs up her body. The library was cold and desolate, only the two of them inside, yet at the same time the place seemed as if it were constantly in use. Even as she watched ladder's would silently roll about, tome after tome is fetched and quietly placed on boards before again being returned some time later. "We're in my mind?" She says, unsure of her answer.

"like a great-sword," he comments, "sharp, but clumsy." He looks up from his book, raven hair helping to keep his eyes hidden behind the pages. "You're right in any case. This is your mind, or at least a representation of it. My representation of it. The way it was originally was too noisy."

"How did you change how my mind looks."

"The question is wrong," he states coldly. "This is the visualization of the abstract idea of your mind. I only changed the symbols, the mind is the same. The answer to how I did that is simple, I am of greater will than you can possibly resist. Be glad I am of a generous mood, the last who had crossed my temperament lie asleep among my spawn, though, I will admit, that was a long time ago. Footsteps haven't been heard in my dwelling for longer than you've walked."

"Why do you enjoy speaking in riddles?" She asks, eyes roaming over is vague vistage, "and why do you hide? In Munnie there is a saying, 'only cheats hide their faces'"

"Aren't you being presumptuous,"

"I'm not presuming anything," she interjects. "I am not going to up and trust someone like you." She smiles a bit, "though I don't see it being much good if the worst is the truth." She gives a light laugh, "could hardly hold a finger against you."

Seeker looks for a moment. "It is wise to be untrusting," he finally says, "I hide my face for my own reasons."

"And what are those?"

"Shame," he says simply. "I no longer count myself among even the lowest of heathens, and if I were to be struck down as I sit here there would be no atonement and no mercy. I pray for a God so that I might one day be crushed by him."

"I would probably more concerned if it wasn't taking most of my energy to actually sit up straight right now." She sighs, pushing her head back and sulking into the chair.

"There is nothing here for you to be concerned about outside the task before us. You can trust that I have had a lot of time to consider my lot in life, though things of late have casted them into doubt." He stands, turning away from Star, raven hair swaying down to his waist, a ghostly hand resting behind his back. "Do you remember your last dream?"

Nodding slowly she answers, "of course. Given by the fact that you're back, I'll hazard to guess that it wasn't just a dream."

"Finally in the mood to actually think?" he says in a sneering tone. "You met yourself then, or at least parts of yourself. You must take steps to understand those parts. Concore those who stifle you, control those which seek to control you and let go of those which only weigh you down. Fear, Rage, Doubts, Passions and Pressures. Each characters in this little play you've created."

"I wonder what Marco would say about all of this." She chuckles, "probably start talking in phycologist terms."

"Let me make something clear," Seeker says with a dangerous tone, "this task will be what keeps both yourself and Marco alive. Right now I need you to do as I say. It is necessary that we get through this as quickly as possible. Each moment we waste puts the two of you further into the grave."

Star's eyes narrow at the man, "and how exactly do I know you're not the one doing this in the first place? It wouldn't be the first time I've met a sick mind."

The book in Seeker's hand slams down, his head bowed towards the table. "There are many things I am, but I assure you that I am not the danger here. Insisting on such a line of thought is a waste of time and energy, and one that I won't entertain."

"Then show me your face," she says breathily, "show me your face and I'll go along with your plan."

"No," he says, "there are more reasons than I care to count as to why I loath the thought. of it."

"Or you're a scoundrel," Star responds, "and one who's threatening Marco's life." She glares at him, "which means that there won't be anything stopping me from protecting him."

Seeker laughs, clutching a hand to his face, and looking up. "You truly do remind me of someone I once knew. I think you would have been fast friends." He lets out a long sigh, "fine, you can see my face, but I warn you that this might complicate things greatly." He lowers his hand, revealing a vestige of pale skin and red eyes. A thin, girlish face with a long nose, a face which Star had already met, adorned him.

"You were there," she says slowly, "before I fainted." Her hands grip as she starts to get up, "so you were hiding your face because you really did do this to me." She staggers out of her chair before a force pushes her back into it.

"While your observation is certainly astute, it's incorrect. The man you saw was nothing more than a shadow. A reflection of a man long since dead, in a story which has already reached its conclusion. You're just re-reading the annals of history with your own eyes and ears."

"Then why do you look just like him?" Her eyes linger on his face. It had an ingrained hardness set into it, despite his soft features, the eyes steele and full of grief.

"There is more than one meaning of death." He sits back down and sighs, "we should begin. We have squandered enough time as it is and the attacks against you seem to be lightening."

"That's news to me," she says with a bit of a groan, "I don't feel any better."

"A tender bruise takes time to heal, as will the wounds that have been inflicted to you here. In any case, we shouldn't let any more of your time here goes to waste. You and Marco will live and die by your will." He sighs, "speaking of the other. Do not mention this to him, it will only put him in danger and it would be distracting if I had to shield him along with you. Let me make this clear, if you tell Marco you put him in unnecessary danger. Out there you must act as if nothing were wrong, as if the time we spend here didn't exist. If he learns something he shouldn't know he'll go through what you're going through right now."

Star scowls, taking a moment to think about Seeker's warning. "He should know what's going on at least."

"And he will, after you do your duty and rescue yourself and him, but for right now him knowing only convolutes the narrative."

Giving a long sigh, she relents, "fine. I will listen to you for now, but if it turns out that you're lying to me about any of this, I won't hesitate to erase you."

"It's unwise to use a person's dream as a threat," he says in a calm tone. "In any case, there would be nothing you could actually do to kill me. Trust me, I've tried." He stands up, the books lying about him starting to float with him. Flying off, the tomes situate themselves back into their shelves all across the grand library. "In any case, I think it's time for you to face your first trial."

"Which would be?" Star says, starting to move with a bit more freedom. Her body still ached, but it no longer felt like she was being battered from all sides.

"Your doubts. All the questions you ask yourself, all the answers you give. All your trepidations, all that holds you back. You must master your doubts, act decisively. Your doubts are a tool. They move as warnings, pauses for consideration, but your's, like they do among so many, have started to take rule over you, instead of you ruling over them."

"My doubts don't rule me," she says, "I'm confident in myself."

"As a general rule you'd be correct, but think about why you're even in this situation with me. You acted on your self doubt. You defied them, forced them aside in a vain attempt to prove your strength. Brash action is just as much a consequence of doubt as timidity and mildness. You struggle and you fight not because you're confident, but as justifications for themselves. Not doing something is admitting you can't, so you try. You act recklessly because you're afraid of failure."

"Shut up!" Star interjects, but Seeker has no intention of doing so, his speech moving on without missing a beat.

"And behind all that. Behind all that bravado, that adventure, that steel. All that hides her." Stepping to the side, he reveals the a figure of Star. Her dress faded and stained, her hair messy and unkempt, her eyes, her milky white eyes hollow and empty. Those eyes pierced through Star, sending a shiver down her spine and a chill into the room.

Star breaths out, her breath a white fog, a dribble of sweat rolling down her face. "You're my doubts?" She says as her empty double takes a seat where Seeker once sat.

"I am what becomes of those fears you push away." She says, her mouth never moving. "You act strong because you hate where you are weak, you act fearless because you're afraid they will overtake you. You lie sleepless in the night because of your failures to protect those you love."

"You're wrong, I can protect them, I have been."

"You know that if you weren't around then Marco never would be in danger in the first place."

"Shut up now!"

"Star," Seeker interjects. "You're just acting like you always do. She speaks truths that you reject. Those that accept them without thought lose themselves, those who deny them become blinded by them. You must sift for the truth among them."

Gritting her teeth Star looks back to her tainted reflection. A long moment passes, the two merely looking over the other. "You're right. I am afraid. Who wouldn't be. I put both me and Marco in danger by coming here. I put him in danger every day, but he knows that. I offered to leave, but understanding that he welcomed me." She smiles wearily, "he's just nice like that. I do act on my fears. I try to hide them, make sure nobody knows. I have to be the strong one, because most of what goes wrong is my fault." A small tear rolls down her face before she wipes it, steeling her expression. "But I also seek out danger, try to find the next challenge just to say I did it. Just to prove that I can do it. I can't say that I won't do that any more, I'm not certain a change like that is even completely possible, but I see what you are. I see exactly what you do, no, what I do with you, and I have to at least try to move beyond that." She stands up from her chair, taking a sharp breath and extending a hand out to her double.

Doubt looks at her dismissively. "Heart warming, but speech makes no change." She stands as well, turning and beginning to walk into the shadowy library.

Star watches and lowers her hand, "what was that?"

"Resolve is all well and good, but it means nothing if it isn't backed up. I introduced you to doubt first because I fear she will be the hardest for you to overcome." He shrugs, "but, alas are times seems to be coming to a close. It's time for another dream to begin."


	7. Chapter 7: Ivory

_Unexpected knowings shatter unsuspecting plans. Indefinite containment threatened with an outsider wholly indifferent. Must be indifference, boredom. I only love, I only care. I am a keep, a stockade and wall who protects and serves, who stays and resists. I bring heavens from hells, comforts from the harshness of realities. Monster strikes out, I strike back. They will be my charges, they will be my cares._

"She's awake," a voice from the blackness of Star's sight says. It was familiar, but warmer than its mirrored counterpart.

"Star," Marco's voice fallows after as she opens her eyes slowly. The creeping purples of twilight, having filed the horizon, basks the ominous forest in the witching hour's glow. "I'm glad you're awake, you just passed out."

She groans, looking from the window to see Marco embracing pulls back, a blush on his face. "Oh, uh, sorry. It's just, I was worried about you. It's been a few hours since you passed out."

Chuckling lightly, she blushes with him. "D-don't worry about it." Moving to hang her feet off the bed, an ache runs up her body. "Ah, that smarts," she groans, clutching her left shoulder and rubbing it slowly.

"I'm not certain what triggered such a violent reaction," the other man says, his eyes looking over a thick book as he sits in an armchair, "but I saw you fall, so I only thought it right I make sure you were all right. Your body was burning up, there was a possibility that you were seriously ill." He looks up, giving a truthful, if wary, grin, "I'm glad to see that wasn't the case."

Marco looks up then back to Star, "Oh, right. This is Alexander Logos. He carried you to the nursing station and stayed to look after you."

"It's a pleasure to officially meet your acquaintance, but, now that everything seems to be in order, I'll be on my way. Hannibal wanted to speak with me over dinner." He stands to leave, looking back and giving a small smile, "I would watch yourself, though. There might be lingering issues from a fall like that. Make sure to tell the camp doctor if you experience any nausea or dizziness." Stepping out, the door closes behind him, light steps echoing back into the room as he makes his way through the wooden fort.

"I'm glad you're awake. You really had me worried, I mean, I didn't expect you to just up and pass out." He rubs the back of his head with a nervous grin, "in any case Hannibal offered a meal for us before we went out, and given the time."

Star nods, standing from her bed and making her way to her shoes by the door frame, slipping them on quickly. "Sounds like a plan." The Pair of them make their way out of the small building to the side of the main barracks and towards the mess. A few lights burned from inside, though few people were inside, most of the soldiers manning stations around the wall and within the camp.

Inside the building were rows of tables lined against each other, probably enough seats to comfortably house a hundred men for dinner. Against the far wall, a counter rested, a sign reading "kitchen" hanging above it. A few groups of soldiers sat dotted about the mess, laughing as they enjoyed a simple, but hearty, meal. In the far corner, Hannibal and Alexander sat over a slightly more complex though still a relatively simplistic meal. Alexander spoke calmly, though his face was grave and concerned, at the same time Hannibal listened intently, a look of calm consideration covering his face.

"I wonder what they're talking about," Star says as they make their way over to the counter. Behind the wooden frame was a rather bored looking young man in a small apron.

"You're the commissioned help right?" He says as he begins to dish out a meal of mashed potatoes and a bowl of soup. Chunks of meat float inside of it along with various vegetables. "Well I wish you luck, but it's a shame that the world is going to lose such a cute girl."

Star smiles, "Oh we'll be back to get another meal, you count on that." She takes her meal and starts to make her way to an end table, sitting down quietly. Her face scrunches, head resting on her hands thoughtfully.

"What's the matter Star?" He asks taking a seat across from her.

"I'm just thinking about how we're going to go about this."

Marco looks over her a bit confused, "uh, okay. I suppose we should probably ask someone exactly what hangs out in the forest and go from there." He starts to eat from his bowl slowly.

Star nods, "I think that's a good idea. I think this would be a good time to get back into practice as well. Your world has an annoying lack of martial weapons." She grins, "and I think that another change of clothes will be needed, I doubt they have leathers in our size." She starts to eat slowly at first before starting to dig in rabidly. She gives a soft hum, "I'm starving," she says in between bites.

Marco rests back into the bench and smiles as he eats at a much more reserved pace. "You've been out of it for most of the day. I would expect you to be hungry."

Their meal, however, was soon cut short as a piercing ring rends the calm air. A sharp "shit" punches after it as tables clatter as Hannibal rushes to the doorway. "Look alive and get geared," he shouts before the door slams behind him.

"What?" Marco says looking a bit alarmed.

Star reacted quickly, downing the last of her potatoes before wiping her mouth. "I suggest you drop the overcoat and get ready for a fight," she says before pulling out her wand and whispering something gently. A flash overcomes her before fading away, revealing her new outfit. She covers herself in grey plate mail, a purple five point star emblazed in the center of it. A plaited skirt hangs to her knees as her shins are protected with steel guards. A chain weave falls over leather about her arms. In her hand rests a claymore, the blood channel decorated with golden roses. The blunted guard is plated with gold to it's sides. On the hilt guard's ends rest silver five point stars, the pommel a rounded midnight purple gemstone. She hops off from the bench and rushes for the door, "pick up your feet Marco."

He looks on with amazement, "how does she even walk in that?" He stands and moves his way towards the door.

The night had just encroached onto the land, a large orange moon bathing the wide fields surrounding the fort in an eerie glow. Archer stood on the barracks walls, arrows notched and aimed to the forest's front. Hannibal stood holding his saber, directing soldier's movements throughout the fort. By his side Alexander stood, head still buried in his book.

"Archers, maintain fire at those emerging to avoid friendly fire. Ground troops are prepared to take the field and to enter a skirmish. They're just wraiths. Nothing we haven't dealt with before. This is textbook," He smiles grimly and signals for the barracks gates to be opened.

Star moved to the side of the other soldiers who were beginning to take formation. Hannibal calmly makes his way to the gate entrance, looking out as small black dots start inching from the distant forest. "Full moon is our ally," he says calmly, "gives real warning." He looks down to the little girl. "You planning on taking the field after today's incident?"

She smiles, resting her blade across her plate shoulders with impressive strength, "Hmm, I think this will be a good warm-up for the mission. It'll let me get a feel for what I'll be dealing with."

Hannibal returns a weary nod, "don't go getting yourself killed. ideally you'll provide a nice body in the forest for me to find in the morning, assuming you don't actually succeed."

"Is this the time for banter," Alexander says as he starts to take position at the head of the formation. "The wraiths will be here in only a few moments. Delaying forming rank could prove disastrous."

The old general nods, "of course, you're correct." He marches out first, leading the small division of maybe twenty men with him. The pale skinned man took position in the front next to him.

Marco soon catches up, "wow, they're really taking the field, and with their generals in the front?"

"He's bored," Star says, watching from behind. "You must have noticed that he's itching for an excuse to fight." She looks to Marco, "not that it matters much, I was kinda looking forward to something like this myself. It's a proper fight between monsters."

Marco nods, "been a while."

Star glances at him and smiles, "yeah, it has." Making her way onto the field, she takes Marco out off to the side of the main formation. "I'd ditch the jacket for now. It's just going to get in the way." She grins, watching as the dark splotches sprint across the landscape, their movements sporadic and unrestrained. They come barreling down the hillside to meet the field. As the forms come closer their form becomes more and more clear.

Hey moved like beasts, claws rending into the earth from thin legs. Their overall visage was that of a shadow, black and translucent. Their backs hunch over in a sickening way, their "heads" eyeless with a gaping maw looking fit to rend through flesh and steel.

"Archer's," Hannibal calls, "fire. Thin them out before they reach the front." He draws his blade, a smile draws across his face. Arrows fly overhead, pelting the wraiths with pointed iron. Few find their marks, lodging themselves into the heads or sides of the beasts who stumble at the impact, but continue their animalistic charge.

"Engage," the old general soon calls as the beasts come closer to the fort, the mass of soldiers taking steps to engage. The fighting breaks out savagely, pairs of soldiers take them, nimbly staying out of the reach of the beast's midnight claws. Steel blades sink into them before they are jerked out at an angle, ripping through their form. Lingering for a moment, the gashes fraying out like tin foil at the edges, the beast evaporates into a black mist, nigh invisible in the white light of the moon.

Star takes her chance, moving into the combat. Two of the hounds, arrow shafts jutting from their form, make their way to her at a rapid her blade in a defensive stance, she works to zone the beasts. Her eyes dart between the two of them, spines lifting from their backs aggressively. They make their move.

One jumps upwards, trying to pin Star down, but she manages to bring her claymore upward with a large swing, cleaving cleanly through the Wraith's form. The second takes its chance, hoping to take her off guard as she recovers from the swing. Star's muscles tighten, pulling the blade off the follow through and sending it into the soft head of shadow beast, evaporating it.

"Eyes sharp," a gruff voice says, tumbling heard from behind Star. Hannibal had tackled one of the beasts, running his blade through it before it returns to dust. "Keep sharp, these things are fast as hell. Fuckers won't think twice about ripping a hole into your neck either." He stands, readying his blade. "Work with your buddy, cover the whole battlefield. These things become chaotic fast." He wastes no time for responses and just dives back into the fray, his thin blade a glinting light throughout the battlefield as he deftly moves through the combat.

Star regains herself and scans for Marco, who is wrestling with one of the beasts. "Marco," she calls out, rushing towards him. A swift kick strikes the wraith, followed by a round flourish from her blade, knocking it out of their space and forcing any other beasts to back off. "Get up lazy bones. You're missing the action," she says, smiling down at him as she hoists the blade back into a ready stance.

Marco slowly stumbles back up, dirt and grime already covering his face and clothes. "Since when did you run around with a claymore?" he says, taking his own stance at her back, his eyes leveling with the pack of hounds that were beginning to circle around them.

"Since they were cool," she says with a playful grin. She lunges forward with a broad, upwards slash, ripping through one before her downstroke cuts through another. Her foot slides back as her blade cuts through a charging wraith, using a similar motion to a bat swing. "Plus, the extra reach seemed like a helpful trait given the situation."

Marco busily dealt with his own assailants, ducking before delivering a swift hook kick into the beast's side, sending it sprawling to the ground. Righting himself he delivers a hard punch to the next foe as it attempts to jump onto his shoulders, his fist sinking into it before the shadowy monster dissipates. "I didn't even think you knew how to use a claymore, let alone be able to use one. Isn't it heavy?"

"Not even," she says taking steps back to keep her back to Marco, covering his blindspots. "These things only weigh five pounds." She takes it into one hand, twirling it about the pomle just to prove her point. "Want something heavy, pick up a mace. Those things can be brutal." She grips back with a hand and a half, holding the blade above her head, angled downwards. She surveys the field, taking note of how many of the beasts were left. The fighting already seemed to be slowing down, the other pairs cleaning up the final one or two as she watches. She, however, has no such luck, at least, seven of the wraiths were circling about the two of them like buzzards.

"They sure seem to want to go after us," Marco says, panting a bit as he sends another to the ground with a powerful roundhouse.

"Beats me," she says before pushing her blade into one of them. She looks up just in time to see the flash of an arrow lodge itself square in one of the beast's heads, followed by another, then another. She looks up to the battlements to see Alexander, great bow outstretched as he notches another. His pale skin nearly glows as the moon rose behind him. She looks back just in time to bring up her blade defensively against a wraith, the beast impaling itself with its own lunge.

With Alexander clearing out quite a few of the hounds Marco and Star quickly clean up the rest, Star stowing her blade onto her back as the fighting clears. She looks up slowly and smiles up towards Alexander. "Come on Marco," she says as she makes her way towards the gate, "We should meet back with Hannibal before we head out for the forest."

He nods, making his way behind her. As the pair approach the gate, Alexander stands, his eyes falling inquisitively on Star, red irises burning through her. "I think I will join you on your foray into the woodlands. I am impressed by your combat prowess, it would be a waste if the planes were to lose you." He turns, "though I will have to clear this with Hannibal. Come." Walking off he makes his way to the mess.

When the Star reaches the mess soon after, greeted by the site of celebrating soldiers gathered about the tables, drinking and chattering excitedly. Hannibal, meanwhile, speaks quietly from an empty table with Alexander, a grim scowl sitting on his lips. "I hardly think it's wise for you to go," he says, the roaring crowd covering the conversation from any eavesdroppers.

"You know that you needn't worry about me. I am fully capable of handling myself."

"But," the older general starts.

"Hannibal, I appreciate the concern, but it's patronizing." He says in a soft, but firm tone. "I have something I need to investigate in the forest anyways. I haven't been able to move through the worlds as I normal do, and it's beginning to concern me. This new restlessness of the forest's denizens only heightens my suspicions."

The man's brow furrows, placing a hand solemnly over his forehead, the dim lighting giving way his aged wrinkles and highlighting his haggardness. "You think that you might have something to do with it don't you? In truth, I still find what you told me hard to believe, but if it's true I think there is no better ally to have than yourself if shit hits the fan." He sighs, "fine, go."

"I wasn't looking for permission," Alexander says softly, "merely informing a friend where I was going." He stands from the table, making his way to Star and Marco. "We ought to go now. Evil things slink away during the day times."

Marco sticks close to Star, standing a bit defensively as the odd man towers over them. "Makes sense," Star says cheerily before starting out of the hall.

"I still have to thank you for helping Star," Marco says, "but why exactly are you coming with us?"

"It'll be amusing," he says in an even tone, "besides, best to travel the forest with more people. It's a dangerous place. Be a shame if either of you were to perish within it." He starts walking, the movement blowing his robe back to reveal his plain pants and shirt, but also a rapier on his side.

The trio make their way towards the threatening woodlands, Alexander keeping some distance behind the other two, his crimson eyes gazing over the horizon as they approach their destination. Star keeps face, moving with excitement, though her eyes often glance behind her, more than idle curiosity making her weary of Alexander.

"Keep close to each other," Alexander says as the triad trek reaches the edges of the forest. "There are far worse things within this wooded grave than mere wraiths. It's a villainous grove riddled with anguishing souls so ready to pour out their own suffering. Your eyes are your ally; your allies are what make the difference between joining the ranks of this forest's rank brethren or maintaining a tenuous grasp on this mortal folly." He continues on, starting to take the lead into the forest "though don't let such descriptions deter you from continuing on. Leaving dangers be is the work of the sane."

Author's Note - Hey, I have a Tumblr! I'm advertising it so I can actually have a dialogue with people who like my work along with the fact that it might help spread out my work. The link is in my Bio on my account.


	8. Chapter 8: Victim

_My nostalgia makes the wonders of the landscape for the production of my adoration. Past-presents and present-pasts combine to the rigging of the universe about myself; my own world being made for others. The stage sets and the players take stage, two unaware but participating in the secondary reality. I shield against Beelzebub, who wishes to steal away those who I shelter; his pestilence batters the theater hall. Though I fear that his insects make way through the cracks, sowing seeds of corruption for my little charges._

Deathly shadows roam over the dank forest floor, the full moon's light sending pale speckles onto the underbrush. The ivory skinned rouge stands at the mouth of the haunting landmark, his eyes gazing about the solemn visage with an analytical gaze. "Make haste," he says, one foot emerging from his long, robe-like shawl, "we must make use of the night."

Star moves with him, taking into a brisk walk behind the de facto leader. Her eyes dart about the shadows, already aware that something was strange about the forest. Even the hallows from mewni, as deadly as they are, didn't give off such a foul aura. Marco even, who's mostly blind to such feelings, senses a strangeness to the grove, sending a shiver down his spine.

"I don't like this place," he comments quietly, trying to keep in close proximity to Star, their shoulders nearly touching.

"Then you aren't a moron," Alexander says dismissively. "I suspect even you can feel it. The air is evil. The forest has changed." He stops down, looking over the mossy floor, the lichen a foul shade of grey and brown. His hand reaches out, touching the soft under cushion before recoiling back, a look of displeasure dancing across his face, his hand retreating under his jacket. "It's worse than I feared, do not touch the forest. Ideally put on gloves, if you have them and try not to fall down. It will be an experience best left to the imagination." He wastes no more time in moving forward.

The display leaves Marco even closer to Star, almost huddling by her. Even the princess isn't left unshaken, her grip tightening about her blade, this was not something to take lightly. Real danger lurked in these woods, a danger she hadn't felt since Toffee.

The start of the trek moved slowly, the high brushes and tangles of roots and thorns slowing the party to a snail's pace. Often times Alexander would have to push out thorny vines or villainous looking branches to let the under armoured Marco through, and each time a rather grisly, twisted, face of pain would grace him. The whole trek marks itself with macabre overtones and vague, unsettling premonitions.

A clearing soon opens up, the forest evaporating away to reveal the moon sitting high on its heavenly throne directly above. Though as Star's eyes adjust to the sudden light of the fool moon, she finds herself wishing to be back in the forest. The clearing is littered with bodies, grizzly bodies of dead men, all fresh, all red. The reek quickly reaches her nose. Her body tightens as she gags, the sudden urge to vomit having to be beaten down with most of her willpower. Marco does not fare nearly as well.

As Marco attempts to recover from his newly vacated stomach, Alexander is quick to draw his rapier. "There were abductions in the last few days," he says solemnly, firmly keeping his back to his two charges, the normal self-importance having fled from him. "May you forgive us for what is to come, as I forgive you for the acts you will commit." He nearly chokes on his words of pseudo-prayer. One step, his foot moves. Two steps, his body inching closer to the field of corpses. Three, they barely even seemed like they were human, too mangled, too many stains of coppery crimson. Some were defiled, vast cavities ripped from their stomachs.

"W-," Star starts, but can't get words out, utterly captivated by the morbid scene set before her.

Steps creak through the far underbrush, Alexander holding out a hand, asking for silence from the two of them. They move slowly forward, the soft sound of crumpling underbrush following it. First her back appears hunch forward and slowly dragging something with her. Her hair, raven black, held white, patchy streaks, her plain dress stained with blood. She drops the body she was dragging roughly to the ground as it fully enters the clearing, turning to survey for an empty spot. Her face was pale, white as snow, her mouth dripping crimson as her tongue flits out to clean herself. Her young face shined with a contrasting beauty as she speaks with excitement and whimsy, "Ooh, company, I wasn't expecting anybody to come to my woods. Especially two handsome men." Her eyes narrow onto Star, "but you had to bring such an ugly thing with you."

Star looks between her and the body she dragged in, rage welling up in her. "Monster," she says before charging headlong at her. Her target cocks her head to the side, not moving as she starts clearing the distance between them.

"Star, don't," Alexander says, trying to catch her.

Her blade comes down hard, but finds no purchase. A shooting pain runs from Stars head as she pulled back roughly by the hair, forcing her onto her toes to try and prevent her hair from being ripped out. "ugly and ill-mannered, tisk, tisk," the woman says. "Guess I'll just have to deal with you then," she sings out, a wide, manic grin crossing her face.

"Star!" Marco shouts, suddenly fully alert.

"Let me deal with her," Alexander commands, his tone dangerous. "Put her down Alice, I don't want to have to kill you."

"Aww, you flatter me Alex, but you see, I oh so want to kill her." She yanks at her hair before throwing Star to the ground, her face burning in agony as it slides against the mossed forest floor. Star quickly scrambling to her hands and knees, pained tears rolling down her face. How did Alexander bear touching it? The respite is short-lived as a rough heel slams her face back into the black lichen, the plants ripping through her with pain like fire.

Star braces her hands onto the ground before roughly pushing herself up, knocking Alice off balance. She pants, recovering, and looks to the mad woman with blazing eyes. "What is wrong with you," she says in a breathy voice."

Alice catches herself as Alexander continues his steady, calculated approach. "Nothing, something was wrong, but I didn't know it. then everything started making sense, and now," she turns to face Alexander with a wide grin, "I get to have fun with my favorite killjoy." She raises and hand, one of the corpses nearest to Alexander jauntily rising and diving towards him.

"You were always so cold to me," she says, Alexander quickly reacting to the new threat, running it through with his blade, but it doesn't deter it. "And you were around so rarely, you sometimes wouldn't show up for months." The gast tries to claw and bite into Alexander's arm, its bloody teeth bared. He kicks it off his blade, sending clumsily to the ground with a loud thud. "I get to hear you sing for me like all these men did. I imagine your song will be the sweetest yet."

"Sickness," he mumbles, "you're ill." His grip tightens about his blade, "but you can not be allowed to continue this. "You two, run now. This thing isn't human. Not anymore. It isn't even alive, not in a true sense."

"But," Starr begins, stumbling to her feet.

"NO, run you damn fools!" He lunges forward, thrusting his blade forward, sinking it into the girl's stomach. She doesn't even flinch, blood soaking around the wound as she simply smiles, smiles with a wicked grin beyond words.

Star looks on in a state of shock before moving to Marco, her armour clattering as she breaks into a run. "Move, now!" she says, taking him by the arm into the forest depths, vines and gnarls digging into the two of them as they flee.

"Chase? I love playing chase!" she says giddily, stepping off the blade as if it weren't there. "I'll let you play with these for now," she says, snapping a finger, the whole field of corpses

"Move, now!" Star says, rapidly dragging Marco by the hand. "We've got to move, and quick."

Marco picks up his feet, starting to keep pace, "why are you running, you never run from anything." He looks behind him as he moves, his heart pounding in his chest.

"And standing up to that would be a bad idea, that woman, I could feel it. She felt wrong." She slows down, taking a rest from her sprint, panting hard. Her blade was long gone, left in the clearing. "All of those bodies," she breaths out thoughtlessly, "she..." Her head shakes, trying to clear out all the idle thoughts and focus.

"Talking about people while they aren't around is really rude, you know?" A chilling voice chuckles out, full of morbid glee. Star looks upwards, the woman, Alice, sitting on a high branch, her legs swaying idly back and forth. "Didn't your parents teach you anything about manners."

Marco looks on, steeling himself to her unsettling presence and startling gaze. "You can't run away from me. There's nowhere in this forest where I can't find you." She giggles a bit, holding a hand to hide her mouth. "But I suppose you haven't any reason to believe me, so you might as well try." Her eyes narrow onto Star, "lest you want me to finish this now."

Star draws out her wand, taking a step forward, "you try and hurt Marco and I will make sure that you're the one running." She puts on a false grin, her confidence betrayed by the fear in her eyes.

"Oh, I don't think that will be the case." A snap rings out, followed by the sinister, guttural growls. Bursting forth come a pack of wraiths, barreling toward the two of them, deftly moving through the thicket of the forest. "I'm calling a fox hunt!" Breaking into laughter she hops down onto the forest floor, "and you two are the prey!"

She looks out, seeing at least twenty of the hound like wraiths chasing towards them, "I won't play games with you." She holds her want out, bracing herself. Pushing forth is a blast of white light, barreling through the forest and the back of wraiths, clearing both the way of enemies, but also of the obtrusive plant life.

"Ooh, impressive," Alice purs in an almost sultry tone, "the little warrior has some neat tricks. They won't help."

Marco starts out through the new path, looking behind him to make sure Star was keeping pace. "So, plan?"

"Get out of the forest, don't die," she responds keeping up with him despite the bulky steel armor. "Worst comes to worse we fight, though I'm not certain how well that will go."

"Are you alright? You were pushed into that grass, and I learned that that smarts pretty badly."

"I'm fine, it wasn't too bad," she lied, instinctively touching her face as she moves.

"Also, why are we running, it seems unlike you, not that I'm complaining, at this point I don't want to mess with a psychotic demon lady."

"I'm trying something new," she says, " I'm trying to play a bit smarter, and right now I'm pretty sure the wise thing to do is to not hang around."

A loud crash rings out, the gem star cracking and the armour plates bowing inward as a pale hand slams into it. "I told you, you can't get away from me," she says pushing the panting Star to the ground, the blow knocking the wind out of her. The steel plates press into her stomach, making it hard to breathe.

She starts to fumble about with her wand as Alice turns to Marco, a devious smile on her face. "Now that she'll be struggling just to breathe, I should be free to have my way with you." Marco gives a hard jab to her stomach, the fist finding her soft stomach. "Ah, why do you have to be difficult," her hand reaches out, gripping him by the hair and ramming him against the trunk of a nearby tree.

Star whispers a few, breathy words, her armor disappearing and leaving her back in her teal dress. Clutching her chest she begins to breathe normally. "Get off him," she says, getting to her feet."

Alice chuckles, pushing his face against the rough, burning bark of the tree, his mouth and face tightening from the pain. "Why would I do that?" She looks to the east, a bit surprised, but quickly regains composure, "there isn't anything that you'll actually be able to do to stop me. I can just start ripping into him," she licks her lips, "I wonder how he tastes."

Star scrambles to her feet, bringing her wand to bear against her. Vines burst out from the ground, entangling the which, forcing her to drop Marco from her vile grasp. "Let him go," she says, moving to help him up. Alice grips at the vines, growling in rage. The flowered tendrils wither away, turning to a fine ash, releasing her from their grasp.

"Will you quit it!" Alice screams, her eyes blazing. She takes a step forward, "and just lay down and die already!" She fishes through her dress, drawing out a wicked knife. She lunges forward, a silver glint cutting through the air as Star just barely moves to the side. She advances, swinging her blade manically, lunging forward to end the hindrance to her fun.

Star rolls with the rabid slashing, deftly staying out of range of the deadly blade, her wand morphing into a short sword. "Will you let us be!" she retorts, parrying the blade, artfully knocking Alice off balance before returning a riposte. The tip of the short blade rips into the maddened woman, finding home in the soft tissues of her side, though for little gain. Alice grins, unfazed the blade digging into her, instead stepping forward, the tip protruding out the other side, glazed in scarlet.

Star pulls out the sword, its form returning to that of her wand, her eyes full of shock and terror. "You should be on the ground," she says, "that much pain..." The slash of Alice's knife rudely interrupts her thoughts, the edge dancing across her face, leaving a shallow cut across her face.

"Pay attention," Alice giggles, "someone might get hurt!" She takes a step forward, drawing for another slash, but suddenly falls forward, the hard boot of Marco's slamming into the back of her knee.

"Star, I think it's back to plan A," he sputters out, panicked. Hastily he starts to move through the forest, Star quickly catching up with him. "Who is she?"

"I have as much an idea of what's going on here as you do." Star turns her head to look behind her, Alice having already disappeared. "Though I don't think running is a good plan anymore. She can teleport or something, either that of move inhumanly fast." She stops, panting lightly and taking a good look around. "I think we have to fight her."

"You're insane, she's been stabbed, twice, and walked it off. She's a demon." He looks about nervously, his head craning at every noise.

"She's playing with us. Enjoying us running. I have a feeling she's only letting us run at all because she enjoys it. It's a waste of energy."

"Who knows, maybe we can get out," he says, his tone defeated and desperate.

"No, that isn't going to work," she pulls out her wand, starting to think, "I have this, whatever she is won't be able to stand up to this if I get serious. I've surprised myself with it, and if there were any time for that to happen, now would be nice." She looks back to him, giving a little smile, "We'll be fine. I know we can stand up to her."

A shrill cackle echoes through the forest brush, Alice moving out into the open, her long locks flowing haphazardly about her. "You keep saying things like that, but I can tell you're scared."

Star turns to face her, her heels digging into the dirt as her wand erupts into a beam of white light. Alice manages to react, but not soon enough, her monologue being cut short as the magical spell engulfs her right side, a look of pain and horror crossing her face. As the blinding light fades she falls to one knee, her left hand clutching at the stump of her arm, cradling it. Her head looks up, hair falling over her, obscuring her eyes. She flits away in a storm of dark mist, leaving nothing behind, save the ash of her arm.

"Woah," Marco says, looking surprised.

"We can talk about it later," Star says, taking his hand, "she'll be back soon or later and I'd rather not be here when she does." She looks around for a moment, trying to get her bearing in the forest. She summons forth a compass and points them towards the direction of Bulwark. "Come on, I don't know how she's going to react to that."

The pair step over the ridge of the forest onto the plain of Bulwark, the fort visible from the crest of the large hill. Marco takes a few more tenuous steps and falls to his hands and knees, panting, the day's insanities catching up to him. "We're alive," he says in a relieved tone before taking to his feet again. "Let's, ah, get back to the fort. I need to sleep, it's just been too much. Wh-what do you think happened to Alexander?"

"That doesn't matter," she says, starting off down the hill, her body starting to ache in its entirety as the adrenaline starts wearing off, her body trying to fend off the vertigo and nausea that goes with it. "Hopefully, he makes it out, but what's important is that we're alive." She gives a half-hearted smile back to Marco, come on."

The walk is slow and silent, neither of them in the mood for talking about much of anything, their only focus on dragging themselves back to the fort. The gate opens for them as they near, a grizzled man stepping and out lending support to Marco. "Come on," he says, "I'm the fort's doctor. He leads them both to the infirmary, having them both sit down.

"Hold on, I'm just checking for any breaks or sprains." He looks at him, "strip off your shirt please, it'll be easier if I can see." He looks to Star, "I can pull the curtain if you want."

Marco nods, "that would be nice." THe doctor nods, pulling the curtain back.

Marco gives a few grunts of pain, "don't be a baby, looks like you're just a bit banged up. Just cuts and bruises. What did you find out there? I was watching the fighting earlier and you both seemed capable." He steps out of the curtain and looks to Star.

"A mad woman," she says, "and I'm fine. Nothing broken, just sore." She sighed, laying down, "Alexander called her Alice."

The doctor looks at her in disbelief, "you must have heard wrong. Alice is dead. She worked for me as a nurse, gather herbs from the edges of the forest. This was before the forest was acting up, you see." He sits down, "she never came back and a search party was sent out. They couldn't even find the body, but there was no way she survived a night in the forest."

"Well, she did, and she nearly killed me and Marco." She sighs, "but, I don't think she was alive. Not really. She wasn't human, not anymore."Marco was already wrapping himself in the blankets, drifting into sleep from the exhaustion of the night.

The doctor sighs, stroking his tangled beard, She was a good kid. Smart, would have made a good apothecary." He looks away, standing to leave. "You're probably tired, you're welcome to rest in the infirmary for now though I think General Lee will want a debriefing soon.

Sleep, though, eludes Star, having turned over to herself as the infirmary door closes. Her body aches, the memories of the forest's sting fresh in her mind, her thoughts mulling about the insanity of this place and on the dreams that haunt her nights. She tried to think, to not let pride stop her, taking things methodically, striking when no other options made sense but was that just another form of doubt?

"You're alive," Alexander says, having walked in while she concentrated. "I will admit, I'm relieved. I didn't want any more blood on my hands."

Star looks up, the thin man sitting on a chair in the far corner of the room. "Anymore?"

He shakes his head, a weary grin on his face, white locks falling disheveled over his face. "It's nothing of concern, just know I'm glad you're alive."

"I could say the same for you though I'm more concerned on how you made it out. Me and Marco were barely able to make it out of the woods, and with so many bodies in that clearing... You must have had to fight them all."

He nods, "I did. It wasn't particularly easy, but I managed to clear a path and run." His voice was even, but it held distrust in it. Star could tell there was something unusual about him, something he wasn't saying.

"No," she says, "that isn't how you got out."

He lets out a light chuckle, pushing his hair back into some semblance of order, "I can only tell you what happened, whether you believe me or not really doesn't matter. Besides, how else would I get out. I'm just a swordsman." He stands up again, making his way to the door, "I would sleep now. Hannibal will want to hear from the two of you about what you saw in the forest."


	9. Chapter 9: Overwhelmed

_When is it acceptable to shed tears over long pasts sorrows? I do not pretend to know the answer, but only admit that there have been times I have though I ask the question "why do I cry?" Do I cry out of shame, out of remorse? Out of some sick quest for redemption, that maybe if I anguish it somehow takes the sin from me? Such thoughts are idle and inane. I am stained by a history longer than the ground, yet I always remember that girl. She was the first victim, and I executed her._

* * *

Sand, the ground shifted like sand under Stars body, the hot sensation of baked grains rubbing against her skin. She sits up, opening her eyes to gaze over an expansive beach of white sand, the sun hovering over the horizon, bathing the sky in purples and red hues. The waves slap against the shore, the water foaming as it slaps against the earth.

The whole setting was immediately recognisable. She had visited this place often in her dreams, one of her tamer fantasies. She cranes her head around, looking for anybody else. She only finds the raven hair of the Seeker, still dressed in his conservative clothes as he sits on a bench, book in hand.

"You have quite the vivid imagination," he says, closing the tome and hiding it away in the folds of his jacket. "It's quite impressive really though perhaps you should try to move away from the more lurid scenes I've found you to produce. They're not fit for someone as young as you."

Star blushes, standing up in the sand "you've been looking through my fantasies."

Seeker nods, "Yes I have. I've been combing through your mind since I got here, I've had little to do for a long time, so it's been refreshing for me to have something new to look into. Frankly, the reason people worry about something as someone else knowing what they think is the base fear of how it will affect their standing interpersonally and socially with both acquaintances and friends. No such worry is headed for me. A thing like me doesn't interact with the native world as people." He stands, "in any case that isn't why we're here." He looks over the endless white-sand beach, "you're here to confront yourself again."

"Doubt?"

"You will not meet doubt again until you conquer her, which you ought to work on. I've seen the power you possess as a spell caster. You lack skill, but the pure energy that wand eeks from you is frankly astounding. Though I find it difficult to parse where you end, and the wand begins in that regard." He looks over, eying up Star and pondering on the conundrum before him, "though also you should start considering where you are and the purpose of the lies you're being told."

"Are you the one lying?"

"If I was that would make my answer untrustworthy, therefore my answer is worthless. You will have to find which of us to trust or you will die here. You may die anyways though that is of little concern to me, I get what I want at either end of the juncture."

Star moves up to stand over the lounging form, casting a shadow over his pale face and raven locks. "What do you even want from me then, and if you win either way why even bother to play."

He laughs, "my motivations are of a simple source. I'm bored, and that boredom correlates to what I want. I've been caged like an animal for a long time, and you offer an escape. Though your arrival has brought back old queries; after all, what is a wild animal but something that, uncontrolled, is a danger? Perhaps I am no more righteous than my captors, or perhaps they are vanguards who ought to be praised for chaining me to my stone. I think they are butchers, but what I think ought to be and what is are two different realities altogether." He grins, "though I suppose I haven't actually answered your question, and by now you must be supposing I never will, so I can either continue rambling about nothing or we can continue to work on more practical pursuits. Though if you really want the right answers you should start asking right questions. I have no intentions of lying to you."

Star gives a little sigh at the difficulty of the man, "Who is Alexander?"

"A dead man, as I've already said. Think a bit harder."

"When did he die?"

"Before I was," he gives a little smile.

Star takes a long moment, thinking over what to say. The relation between the two must be more than he's willing to divulge, why, otherwise, would he be so difficult about it.

"It's possible I'm being difficult because it amuses me," he says with a wry grin.

"Wh-" Star begins, trying to gather herself from the sudden blow.

"You can't hide your thoughts from me in here. I can speak with the ecosystem of your mind, which includes your internal monologues."

"Can you not do that?"

"Think it's unfair? Well, trust me when I say I'm playing with a handicap much greater than your's."

She sits down onto the sand directly across from him, her legs crossed. "When did you die?"

"I died with my friend." He stands up, "well that seems to be enough for now; it would be ill advised to dawdle further on this. You have another aspect to confront."

"Wait," she says, looking up to him as she scrambles to her feet. "You told me to question the lies I'm being told, how do I know this isn't pointless, or worse."

"The fun of this is that you don't. I don't like giving away the answers, so it falls to you, young miss Butterfly, the parse the truth out of this. I hope you see the truth, it would be a poor story indeed if you didn't."

"Then give me one more question, what happened to Alice?"

"Poison, deadly pollutants seeping into the earth from a vile man of vindictive strength. The weight of rejection, it latched to her, defiling her form and perverting her longings. She had wishes of the flesh and longings for the heart; she partook of the flesh and the hearts of those around her. Alice died and was replaced by a beast so foul, yet wearing her face and keeping her blood." He turns away, starting to walk across the white sand, "her death was only the first, you will witness the fall of man, where even the stalwart and virtuous are perverted to baser, ghastly ghosts."

"That's," she starts. It was vile, the words flowing out spinning corruptive forces, Star understanding the gravity of what she brought herself and Marco to. "Who would do something like that?"

"I pray that the people who did this destroyed this world with a sense of regret, as their goals were not it's death, but I fear that, save one, none even considered the deaths their actions would wreak." He gives a pained sigh, one filled with regret, "it is of little use pondering the past when the present requires us. It is time you meet your passions."

"I thought passion was a good thing," she says, trying to move topic.

"There is neither good nor ill within her, merely she is. Your passions are not long lived, they are lightning, fast and hot, like mist, beautiful, but fleeting. They distract you when you must focus, and do nothing to help you seek greater commitment." He turns to her, "though you ought to see this yourself." He gives a little smile before turning once more, his robe flourishing about, wrapping in on itself like an ouroboros 'till no trace of him was left.

"Well isn't he dramatic," a cheery voice rings out. "Oh, oh, I know, he's brooding!" Star turns to her side, standing before her was a raven haired woman adorned in a long flowing scarlet dress. She grins wide at Star. "Aren't you adorable," she says, quickly scooping up the smaller Star into a hug, lifting her from the ground. "A cute girl in my realm!" She drops her roughly, looking around rapidly, "ah, what to do?"

Star groans slightly as her back smashes into the sand, her body sinking in slightly. "How about telling me who you are."

"Oh, well I'm Passions," she gives a flourished bow before quickly righting herself. She grins, "so what do you want to do?"

She scans the woman's pale, beautiful face, and down her feminine body. She would rightly be considered among the most stunning woman to live, if she actually were to live. "I want to get back my scissors," she says, "we need to get back to earth."

She gives a light giggle, "oh come on you must have something more interesting you can do." She puts out a hand, gripping Star by the wrist before pulling her up to her feet. I mean, the world you're in is pretty amazing." Her feet stomps into the ground, the scene about them morphing into the field of crimson spider lilies. "Look at the beauty here," she says, her arms outstretched, body twirling among the flowers. "Isn't it amazing? You need to just relax and look at all the good around you."

Star frowns, looking off into the distance, towards Bulwark. "This place isn't safe, and we're trapped. It cages us in."

"Stop worrying, we've always just gone with it." She grins, "everything will work out, everything has always worked out in the end, so why not just enjoy the ride?"

"Because," she starts, "because that's irresponsible, and deranged!" She points to the direction of the fort, "that's where we are right now, and _something_ there wants to kill us. I don't know whether Seeker is lying to me, but I do know one thing, coming here was a bad idea. Either this is what matters or the waking world matters, but in either case both me and Marco could die. I can't fail him, not again." Star brings her hand to her eyes, wiping away a few tears she didn't even know she shed, "I need to be focused right now."

Passions looks on with a little sadness, "you've lost your way, you're forgetting what it is to be yourself." She smiles, "oh, I know! I can show you again, just let me take the wheel for a little bit; I promise everything will work out." She takes a short step forward, outstretching a hand.

Star looks at the hand, and then to passions, "are you serious? No. I can't afford to not be acting at least a little bit serious. This is my mistake and I have to get us out of it."

Her smile fades away, a more serious expression taking its place, "I wasn't asking." The area morphs again, the field overgrowing with thicket and thorns. Vines move in, trying to ensnare Stars leg in a tangle. "You're making a mistake by not letting me do this." She plods forward, her dress shifting shade to a light grey to accent her menacing, pale facade.

Star struggles against the ensnaring lichen wrapping about her arms and encroaching her onto her legs. "What are you doing?" She shouts, suddenly feeling hapless. She struggles over the wines, pulling them taut, trying to step out of the vine.

The red haired woman steps forward, hand outstretched. "Just relax, you'll be fine." She smiles faintly, "I'll give you back the wheel after I do some things."

Star pulls back with all her might, tearing away the plants, the ground uprooting and sending dirt into the air. Stumbling back she starts to move away from the thought form. "Get away, you can't do that!" She turns and starts to dash away, looking behind her.

"Stop, you're being puritanical," Passions grins as Star runs into her, knocking herself to the ground. "You need to just relax and have some fun."


	10. Chapter 10: Different

_`How will they adapt to ruin? What means will they have to defy the story being spun for them? They ought to be heroes, galavant, and glimmering in holy beams of light. They have the chance to live in fervent exhilaration, but they resist. Instead of taking part as the protagonist of an epic they chose to fight the novel._

* * *

night before. The sun already hung high from the window, illuminating the room with its radiant rays, though the room held a somber tone for the boy. Last night was haunted, his sleep plagued with discomforting and morbid visions. He shakes his head, rubbing his eyes to chase away the last grips of sleep.

He starts to move, but hands constrict him. A moment of panic strikes him before he looks to his side. Wrapped around him are a pair of dainty, fair arms, though they hold an impressive strength. "Morning Marco," Star's voice rings, her tone suave, almost sultry. She grins and stands quickly out of bed.

Marco blushed deeply as he turns to look at the elated face. "Get up sleepy head, we have soooo much to do today," she gives a dopy grin. Her dress had shifted into something more sporty, apparently having abandoned the more conservative clothes. A pair of rather sheer jean shorts and a simple white top adorn her. A pair of dainty pink flats covers her feet, making her seem much shorter than she normally does in her platform boots.

Marco looks on, his mouth slightly open as he grasps for something to say. "M-morning Star," he stutters out weakly, "what happened to the dress you had yesterday?"  
She giggles cutely, moving away from the bed. "It was just a stuffy dress, too restrictive for my tastes really. Besides, I think we should start to relax for a bit, we've been a bit too stressed I think." She leans in close, her face inches from his "besides, there are lots of ways for us to have fun." She straightens back up, leaving Marco's face beet red, "Anyway, Hannibal wanted a debriefing over the forest. Best get it over with so we can find something better to do."

With a wide smile, she starts to walk out the room with exaggerated steps. "See you in a minute cutie!" She calls before stepping out the room.

Marco stares for a moment at the empty doorframe, a flush face and confused eyes marking his features. "I, what?" He mutters to himself as he stands from the bed. He takes a deep breath as he dawns his coat, starting to button it slowly, though he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

He takes slow steps, the morning's grip chaining his energy. When he walks into the bright summer sun he has to cover his eyes to let them adjust. Alexander leans against the infirmary, his eyes wearily fallowing Star as she merrily bounds to the main building. "How did you get out of that forest?"

"We just ran." A half truth really, they mostly did just run. "Though I would like to know the same about you."

He nods, "I suppose you would, but lies beget lies. My question then is why do you have to lie to me? You don't trust me much, do you? Perhaps, though, that would be a wise course of action ."

"You aren't making much of a case for yourself," he says dryly.

"I'm not trying to." He heaves himself from the wall, transitioning into a brisk walk down the hard dirt path. "Though I can tell you that you ought to be more protective of your witch. General Hannibal might be willing to deal with her abilities, but the rest of this world is less sympathetic to the mystical. Though, to be fair, the mystical for them mostly consists of those searching for blood." He looks back at Marco, a knowing glint in his eyes, "at least she seems to be in a more jovial mood than last night." He takes his leave, meandering slowly over to the mess.

Marco watches the pale man, eyes locked on him. How exactly did he know so much, there was certainly more going on here than it first seemed. "Who is he?" Not wanting to dawdle any longer. He makes his way slowly, tired both physically and emotionally from the night before. The wooden fort felt cool compared the heat outside, the shade cooling him. He makes his way to the familiar door to Hannibal's office, which was slightly ajar, letting through the discussion on the inside.

"I heard as much from Alexander's report," he says with a somber tone, "but I need to know what went on after the group was separated."

"Well, we ran," Star says, her tone upbeat, "though that was a rather boring solution if you ask me. Thinking back I can think of a few better ways to handle it."

"Right," he says slowly, "what happened while you were running then? Anything unusual."

"Well, she chased, kind of like cat and mouse, though in the reverse to my preference. I'll admit, Alice was pretty strong, she was rather rude as well. Probably not a very well liked person; I'm thinking she needs to be a bit more personable really."

"Don't you think you're taking this whole thing a little too laxly?" He says.

"I don't really think so, I like to take every opportunity to enjoy my circumstance, well now, at least; I was getting tired of being so serious all the time."  
"And this is new?"

"In a way, though it's always been there. I don't think it's unreasonable to try and enjoy yourself."

Hannibal nods, giving a weary response, "I suppose not, but such feelings dull with age and experience. Far be it from me to try and tell you otherwise, though, so long as you respect my authority."

She nods, standing up from the seat with a quick motion. She stops outside, "hey Marco, you ready to talk to Hannibal now? I wouldn't, it was really rather dull."  
"I think I'll be fine for a few minutes," he says with a joking jibe.

She gives a smiling nod, "I'll be entertaining myself then." She moves off with a joyful saunter. Marco frowns slightly (not before stopping himself from staring) as he watches her go, not able to shake the looming feeling of dread. He shakes his head, entering into the office of the general.

"Marco, right?" He says waving to the chair, his hands playing with a well-worn quill pen, "I'm hoping you can give a more complete picture of what happened in the forest."  
Marco takes a seat, feeling rather small under the firm gaze of the older, bulkier man. "How much do you know?"

"Alexander filled me in up to the part where you were separated from him and how he managed to escape, the issue is that Alice disappeared soon after that, leaving him mostly alone. The issue is that I need to write a report on went on last night and file it. I have a feeling Alice is only the start of something."

Marco looks down, not particularly excited by the prospect of retelling the tale of the previous night. "She was strong, Star couldn't even touch her and I had even less hope of doing something. We ran through the forest, backtracking to find the plains, but she gave chase, I think. She was always ahead of us, taunting us. When she finally decided to fight it was a miracle that we got away." He breathes deeply.

"How did you get away?" He says, his hand having been scribbling down the excerpt as he gave it.

Marco shakes his head, "I'm not certain."

"Marco," Hannibal says calmly, "I need to know what happened, and I can tell you that nothing will come to harm Star."

He looks up, his eyes questioning the firm man, "what?"

"I'm already aware of what Star is," he says, "Alexander thought it was prudent to inform me after you arrived here yesterday evening. Folks here are unkind to those like her, it's a sorry state, though one born out of reasonable fears; most of those who are as abled as your friend are either beast blinded by rage or those who seek power at the expense of others." He leans back slightly into his chair, "So I need to know exactly what happened."

Marco nods. "Alright," he says wearily, "we were running, but Alice was able to stay in front of us. I-I think it was some sort of magic. Like she could move around the forest at will. She was strong too, physically I mean, much stronger than me, and even Star. Star used her magic to clear a path through the underbrush to let us run, but even then she was able to descend onto us. She only stopped pursuing after Star used her magic to attack her," Marco pauses, "I only remember her using a spell like it once before."

"A spell like what?"

"It was just an attack. She normally fights with fringe and with needless color, but this time, it was just an attack, I don't know how else to describe it, it took Alice's arm off. After that, she disappeared and left us alone."

The general nods, "I see. I'll ask you to avoid using such magics while in plain sight, people are discomforted by it at the very least and I might end up costing her if she's flippant with its use." He scribbles down a few more words onto the parchment before leaning back into his chair. "You're dismissed," he says flatly.

Marco nods, "I'm glad I could be of help."Standing, he makes his way out of the main building, scanning the fort's interior. His eyes draw to a sand pit where Star stands, wide-eyed, a wooden sword in her hand.

"Come on!" She says, giving a cheeky look to a rather battered looking brute at least twice her size, "A little friendly competition is good once in awhile." The group of men about her look to each other hesitantly, the sight setting a little grin on Marco's face.

The girl continues to give friendly jibes for about a minute until the to the interior hall opens up. Hannibal looks at the scene with an amused look. Another man scuttles out after him, lean and lanky. He doesn't take note of the girl, but simply rushes out to the fort gate, a document tube on his back.

"Well then," the general says, letting himself have a little fun, "it seems my men are afraid of a fourteen-year-old girl. I thought I trained you little shits better than that." He starts walking towards the sand pit, the soldiers making way out of a mix of respect, reverence, and fear, the sort of treatment you would have to a father. "Are you all just going to stand there and let this little girl intimidate you. If I knew you were all bottom bitches I would have requested for another base to lead!" He looks to a grouping of female soldiers, "and ladies afraid a barely post-pubescent girl would beat you! You all have been with me for a few years now, I know you're better than this." He puts out a hand, the most recent victim to the terror tossing him a wooden short sword. Stepping forward, a large grin on his face, he extends the faux blade. His eyes dart about, watching his soldier's reaction, the group having been uplifted on his theatrics.

"Quite a speech," she says with a grin, "let's see you back it up." She takes the first strike, the training weapon barreling towards the hardened general with a long side swipe. The air falls still as the surprise attack cracks against the wood of the general's blade.

He grins, the strike visibly moving his footing, "you're strong for someone your size." He steps forward with a rough jab, the petite girl side stepping it and returning with another swipe. Another crash fills the air, Hannibal nonchalantly deflecting it once again.

"And you're fast for someone so old."

Hannibal casts a downward strike, faster than the last, forcing a block which buckles Star's knees. He follows up with a kick, deftly dodged by the trained youngster.

And then they fight.

The dainty strike which would shake a normal person were mere precursors to the actual combat between a child prodigy and a titan. The sound of crashing wood fills the air, one given ground to the other only for it to be stolen back with interest. Hannibal worked with calm, poised motions, often left to the defensive, but gave a little ground. Star, conversely, acted with strength and fervor, almost always acting as the instigator when trading blows with the faux weapons. She keeps in motion around Hannibal, working his angles and flanks, forcing him to pivot in hopes of him losing his balance, but to little avail.

As fast as it started, the duel ends. Star makes one false step, her blade swinging in and her footing unsure and unbalance. Hannibal acts. He rams his own blade into the oncoming strike and leans his shoulder into Star. The stick flies from the girl's hand as she's tackled to the ground, the general's sword being leveled at her neck.  
The crowd, enamored by the short, but grueling, brawl, burst into a roaring cheer, celebrating the decisive victory.

Hannibal holds out a hand, laying the fake sword to the side. "Good job," he says, a respecting smile on his face, "you're a wonderful swordswoman, but you need more time to refine the skills you have."

Star takes the hand, a grin on her face, "you were stronger than I expected. Not too many people can keep balance against me." Hoisting herself up, she dusts her clothes off.  
Marco, only really see star fight with conviction a few times before, stands with his mouth agape in awe. As the crowd starts to disperse from the sand pit he comes up, listening to the conversation intently.

"Apparently," she says in a chipper tone, a wide grin on her face, "you were quite impressive yourself."

"Just remember," he says, bending over to pick up both the faux weapons, walking casually to place them on a small rack, "offense isn't everything. And, while you're certainly nimbler than me, you need to learn effective blocking techniques. In a real duel, it only takes a single strike to decide a victor."

"I'll keep that in mind."

The olive skinned master gives one final nod, the motion seeped in a sort of respect, before starting back to the inner house, Alexander coming beside him, speaking in a hushed whisper.

"That. Was. Awesome." The boy moves up to, a wide grin stretching across his face as his worries, at least for a moment, are caught up in the tempest of excitement the fight had stirred within him. "I didn't know you could fight like that, I've always just seen you use magic and fists."

She gives a light giggle, "I told you I was raised by the guard, didn't I? Well, they did a bit more than teach me hand to hand."

Marco stops, thinking for just a moment, "right, that makes sense, that also explains the weapon paraphernalia in your room?"

She gives a quizzical look, "Para-?"

"Kind of like hobby stuff," he says quickly with a little laugh.

"Oh, I get it." She quickly takes his hand in her's, "I could show you more of that sometimes, if you wanted." She leans in closer with the words, having a push herself up onto her toes to look eye to eye with him.

As suddenly as it came, the excitement he felt fled, rather suddenly changes to a tight sensation inside his chest. He stutters out a few disjointed consonant sounds before collecting himself, "right, yeah, another time." He takes a half step back, pulling his hand away in the most inconspicuous manner she could muster. "I actually need to go talk with someone right now." He steps back again, "be careful Star." He steps away, turning quickly on his heel and making his way with rigid steps.  
The Star he leaves behind gives a small giggle in response.

* * *

Marco actively makes himself scarce for about an hour, spending most of his time in the infirmary (the only place he doubted Star would just walk into). He spent it sitting, pacing, tapping and fidgeting. His mind wanders from thought to thought, never sticking to one for more than ten minutes and deftly avoiding (unannounced to himself) the thoughts which were actually nagging him.

His internal dissertation on the current situation in this strange nation eventually gets pushed to the side by the entrance of a man. The man looks young, no older than thirty at the most, at least judging by his hair and overall build. His face tells a different story. Dark bags hang under his bloodshot eyes, his cheeks seeming to sag as if they were a half century older than the rest of him. He opens up the door, stepping in with slow, plodding steps, hand gripping the doorframe for continued support. Like most of the other people around his skin is an olive tone, his hair a dark brown, but the skin lacked the vibrancy he saw in the others as if tainted by a grey screen. His movement's, cumbersome and erratic while at the same time measured and paced, take him to an empty bed. He looks up, eying Marco with his deathly glare. "Where is Doctor Humors," he wheezes, the little exertion setting him into a coughing fit.

Marco looks back, thinking where the physician might have gone, briefly recalling he had left just a few minutes before. "He's gone out, but I'm certain he'll be back."

The coughing subsides, a small "thank you" given back in a hoarse tone. The man lays down onto the bed, propping pillows up so he can comfortably, or at least as comfortably as he could muster, with his legs stretched out and sitting up against the wooden headboard. He grabs a nearby cup, turning away and spitting into it. "I haven't seen ya' around," he says, his voice coming back with a fuller sound.

"I just arrived yesterday," Marco responds, trying not to stare at the man, "I came with a friend on the call of a bounty."

Gives a short laugh, which quickly turns to hacking and ends with him spitting once more into the cup. "So you're the poor sods Hannibal picked up then, his little death march apparently didn't work. Or maybe it worked better than he expected." The man had a tendency to hold his oft "a"s, giving him a bit of a drawn out sound.

"Neither," he says with a small shrug. "We got out alive, but just barely." A small shudder runs up his spine as he sees a flash of Alice's face in front of him. "We're, we were really lucky to make it out of that forest. It was more dangerous than I thought."

The soldier (at least Marco assumes he is a soldier) puts on the smile of a young man, contrasting oddly with his grave countenance. "Yes you are. Hannibal refused to send a crew on the grounds that he needed all hands on deck for the night raids, but I think he just wanted to keep us safe as he could. So he hired out the task, seeming ta think that is a few mercenaries bit it instead of a few of his men he could get the attention he needed from the council." He takes a deep breath, the conversation winding him, "he was rather frank about that part. Hannibal has always been pragmatic in his ways, the break a few eggs type, he jus' wanted it to be someone else's eggs if he could help it."

"You seem rather upbeat given your, uh, current condition."

"I try to keep spirits up. No use being ill and downtrodden. Rather be one or the other if I have ta chose. Truth be told it's been a," a throaty cough interrupts him, doubling him over to spit, once again, into the little tin cup. "Excuse me," he pants, "like I was saying this all came onto me rather suddenly. Just two days ago I was walking 'bout, just like any other day, but come sun up yesterday I was stricken with a stomach bug. Slept most of today, 'till a friend of mine woke me up. Had the damndest face on, l'ke he were starin' at teh dead. He shows me myself with a little bronze mirror and asked me to come here." He gives a grave chuckle, "Frankly I don't see the difference from my old ugly ass face, but 'cordin' to him I should see doctor Chuckles. Always found his name 'ronic, dead man have better humor than he does, as you cun see by me."  
The door to the clinic opens, Humors carrying a small satchel in his hand, as he looks up he gives a start. "God damn it Jack," he exclaims, "what the hell happened to you?" He rushes over to his bedside, starting to look him over.

"Well Chuckles," he wheezes out, "I don't rightly know. Seems ta be teh reason why ah'm here in teh first place."

The doctor frowns, her bushy brows furrowing together. "Lift your shirt for me," he says leaning him forward, Jack complying. Humors places an ear to his back, "now breath, deep as you can." Once again Jack does as he's told, diving headlong into another fit of coughs and hacking. "Good God," he says, "I think you have pneumonia, but it's quite a bad case. Fluids are building up in your lungs, you see." He hurries over to his desk, pulling out drawers, "I don't have... Damn it." He stands up, "I can clean and dress wounds," he mumbles to himself, "but illness is the real killer. I'll bring someone in to keep an eye on you while I head to the market in town. See if they have what I need, but with Alice gone..." He looks to Jack, "I'll be back in two hours at the latest until then try and keep breathing."

Jack nods, "I'll do my best Chuckles," he says with a weak smile, "take more than this to kill me." Frowning the Doctor steps out, leaving Jack alone with Marco. Jack coughs hard, "might want to run along then kid. It's not much use to stare at the sick."

"I'll stay, least until whoever Humors is sending comes by," he says with a weak smile.

"Aw, that's sweet kid. Not really becoming of a bounty hunter, but sweet nonetheless." He grins, "but really, I'll be fine."

"I'm just curious," he says with slow thought, "who are you?"

"'Tain't to many people who'd care to know, save for the people who already do." He chuckles, weakly, "Names Jack, was a debtor, now I'm a soldier. Can't say I can complain too much, get three square here and the commander's a respectable man, fair. So soldering certainly beats the squalor I used to live in 'specialy given it's a peacetime." He looks Marco over, "how 'bout you? Part of a guild?"

"No, just wondering with a friend of mine, got a little stuck." He shifts a little, his mind finding itself considering Star.

"Heh, I know the feeling," he stops, starting to cough roughly. He clutches his chest, coughing up splats of blood over his leg. Marco moves over to him in a start, not having anything to do besides standing with Jack. The color drains out from him, his olive skin turning white as snow as he coughs, and hacks, black sludge, and blood falling out of his mouth.

Then, it subsides, but Jack wasn't there.

His body felt loose as it lays back against the headboard, his labored breath becoming surer, the whites of his eyes clearing of blood. "Jack?" Marco says with a mix of fear and concern.

"There is no good to come from looking at the dead," he said dangerously, "carries about it a certain danger." He smiles madly, hand darting out to grip Marco by the collar of his shirt. He turns about in his bed, placing his bare feet on the dirt floor. Drawing Marco in close, their noses touching. "You aren't my enemy, but I'll need you to get out of my way." With a swift motion, he turns to the door, pitching Marco through it with a crash of splinters, his body rolling through the grass, coming to a stop with a rather pitiful whimper.

Jack, or at least what was Jack, steps outside into the sun, the various activities around the yard having been abruptly ended. "You are all my friends," he says in a loud, commanding tone, "and so long as you do not hinder me no harm shall come to you. My foes are the council, not there footmen."

Alexander and Hannibal both burst out of the main house, the former cold and analytical, the later fuming and enraged. Jack's eyes narrow, "No, not just the council, if I kill them more will just step up, more like them. Like you, commander. You always complain about the injustices of the council, but you do nothing." His pale body seems to radiate blackness, shimmering nothingness. "Stand back all of you," he shouts, the other soldiers recoiling from the booming command. "You always were a wonderful duelist, Hannibal, how many times have you beaten me?" He outstretched a hand to his side, a single sided, curved blade, about a meter in length, black as pitch materializes itself in his hand. For a long moment, one where an eternity could play in a blink of an eye, the two glared at each other.

With a start Jack moves, faster than a human should have been able, sword aimed to plunge through the General's gullet. It finds flesh, but not the flesh it wished to find. Alexander gives a piercing cry, the man impaled, hand gripping the blade with incredible strength to prevent it from reaching the general just an inch behind him. "You are dead, Jack, your body no longer holds the mind it once did," he pants out, red stains flowing onto his black cloak. "All of you!" He shouts definitely, Jack vainly trying to pull his sword from the leith, sickly looking man, "Run, evacuate the town."

"That's an order," Hannibal shouts after, stepping out from behind his friend, drawing his blade.

Star watches from the sidelines, the camp starting to move out with impressive speed and order.

"Hannibal," Jack growls, letting go of the blade, it evaporating, sending Alexander falling backward. "Always hiding behind your friends. I'll kill anybody who thinks to stop me." He starts a swing, an identical blade forming mid-strike, only to be stopped by steel, inches from Hannibal's face.

"Jack, this isn't you," he growls, forcing his blade to the side. He retaliates, but the man Keeps just out of his reach with light, almost floating steps. "You've gone mad."

"No old man, I've been released, my inhibitions lifted, tools given to me. You're!" He strikes hard, turning the fight around immediately, placing Hannibal on the defensive again,

"Just!" He slams his sword around, the clatter of steel defending, "In!" Again, each word punctuated with a clash of steel and a loss of hope, "The!" Once more the sound comes out, Hannibal's knees buckling from a downward strike, pushing him to kneel, "WAY!"

Star watches, almost uninterested in the events playing out before her, merely enjoying the contentions, she was uninvolved after all. "Stop," wheezes Marco, standing up on shaky ground, "what are you doing, isn't he your friend? The way you talked about him in the clinic, it was reverent of him."

Hannibal gives the boy a dangerous look, struggling to keep the blade from digging into his flesh. "Stand down one, this is your fight."  
"I..." He pants, unable to put together his thoughts through the haze of pain encasing his body.

"You wish to make an enemy of me then," he says raising a hand to his direction, "then I'll be happy to end your pitiful life."


	11. Chapter 11: Damned

_Defined agony, desperate longing, hellish existence, and unending rage. Those are what I should feel, but I don't. I think, sitting across from this girl who's face is simultaneously have intense nostalgia for and the urge to remove it, burn it, defile it, yet all I can muster is an intense apathy. My rage has drained away, my sorrow resting in the earth with the dead, I am empty. I'd rather be a monster than a shell, monsters can be rescued._

 _But I forget my purpose. I must leave and I must help this girl, two counter imperatives. The latter that I might unsheath my burning agony, the later to quell the same force. I am sanity, I am madness, I am dark, and I am light, a duality straining against each other. Am I Job, tortured? By asking that do I resign myself from the comparison?_

 _"_ _Then said his wife unto him, Dost thou still retain thine integrity? curse God, and die"_

* * *

There they stand, the beach outstretching in every direction save for that where the waves beat against the white sand. The teal dressed girl kneels down, shivering hard, though no wind blows.

"Get up," Seeker commands plainly.

"I don't..." She says with a physical shudder, "feel."

"No, no you don't. Your body is no longer within your control. You move, but you are chained." He walks slowly towards her, locked steps with hands hidden away in his long, black coat. "You lost the battle," he says placing a hand on her shoulder, "you best steel yourself to fight the war."

She struggles to stand, legs weighed down as if a thousand pounds were strapped to her shoulders. "You'll get more used to the feeling of being a spirit in some time, incorporeality certainly feels alien for the first few hours."

With a grunt she heaves herself upwards, her mind trying to grasp the combined feeling of crushing weight and of not having any solidity at all, an apparition inside her own mind. "I can see," she says with heavy breath,"two things." On the outside the moon still hung high in the air, Star, or at least her body, stirred from bed. She tries to stand out of bed but falls roughly onto her face. Star, at the beach, rubs her eyes roughly, trying to rectify her duplicitous sight. "It's just, ah, strange."

"I would think you're seeing the world through the eyes of Passions. I brought to life your parts as thoughtforms; you must tread carefully with them, as they're more dangerous than they initially seem." The tall man starts to walk, but the scene changed around him, rather than him moving through it. They stand back inside the stone library, her mind personified.

A moment passes in strained silence, Star too distracted by her visions, Seeker bearing a vile grimace. The Star on the outside changed clothes (the long way before climbing up into Marco's bed, taking the role of a large spoon despite her size. This, predictably, leaves the real Star blustering. "What is she doing? That's just, just, wrong."

"She's spooning, I believe. She seems rather intent on it too," the man says dryly, mostly interested by the entire affair.

"I see that!"

"Hardly worth thinking about. There are better things you can waste your effort on, such as reclaiming your body." He sets himself down into the stone chair, heads falling as he looks up into the blackness of the ceiling. "This place is drear," he says slowly, "doesn't fit you." He raises a hand, the ceiling giving way to a night sky, clear and bright, stars dotting across it in uncountable numbers.

Star looks up at the celestial display, the tiny dots of light bright and clear across the sky as if it were a perfectly clear night. She stands, her mind forcing herself to either see one thing or the other, parsing her perceptions out. "Who are you..." she asks, struck by the beauty of his creation.

"You've asked before," he says calmly, "I'm a dead man."

"I don't care about the metaphoric you, who are you?"

He frowns, his face turning pensive, thoughts rattling about inside his skull, almost loud enough for Star to hear. "Have you ever thought about who you were? Really thought? Asked yourself 'why am I here, what purpose do I have?'. For a long time, I thought I knew the answer to that question. Nothing. Life is meaningless and void, all you have are those around you and the joys you can make for yourself and those you love. But, I no longer know. My time in hell has given me perspective, and knowing more has one unavoidable consequence: you realize how ignorant you are. Do you really want to know who I am?" The scene shifts once again, the cold cobblestone floors melting to hot, brown sand under foot, dunes mounding up in moments larger than either of them. Star looks down and find that she's missing, well, everything asides from a perspective is missing, as if she were merely floating eyes perceiving the world, or a camera streaming the video to where she actually was. "This is Harenam," he says slowly, the word being pronounced as are-ay-num. "I was born here, in more than one sense..." He walks briskly to the large city in the distance, a metropolis of limestone and sand, water flowing in grand canals irrigating a farming network around the stately capital.

They reach the place in moments, crossing a mile of desert 'till they face a structure of grandeur. People sat on the steps into the Parthenon like building, the whole structure scaling into the heavens upon its hilly mount. Those about the building chatter, sit and read or simply devote their minds to elderly men, pontificating on the steps. The people were much as those in the other world, their skin a dark olive hue, their hair almost all dark shades of brown and black, save for the elderly who bear whites and grays. It seems this place held many such old men, often the frail-looking men commanded the attention of a swath of young pupils. They speak to them not with arrogance, or even from a place of greater wisdom, but from an equal standpoint, asking question, explaining answers, giving full and complete reason to their rationality, and, when things were brought which they could not answer, as rare as such a chance was, they conceded. No insult can be brought against those who shunned pride.

"Welcome to history. A history of a devil and a fool." Seeker walks forward, Star's perspective being pulled with him, her incorporeality an odd and distressing feature of the dream she inhabited. He takes her to a peculiar teacher. He spoke with a crowd of those much closer in age to himself than the others. He, appearing with fine lines of age across his face marking the years, lacked the deformities that came in the latest years of life. He stands with a straight back, enunciates with consistent clarity, no sentence interrupted by hacks and coughs of the failing body, and his eyes lack the cloudy covers that other rabbi had, forcing them to walk alongside a guild. However, other deformities stuck him. His skin, pale wrapped itself in heavier clothes than most, sheltering itself from the harsh desert sun, and his eyes hold blood red irises, his hair a silky, long white train reaching to the small of his back. The man, by no means young, but by no means old, held the attention of a smaller group of students, his lesson discussing the nature of the world and of the forces which inhabit it.

"We," he begins, "exist in a world of wonder and mystery, the things outside of ourselves and that which lies within ourselves are both exponentially greater than what first comes to mind. The world, principally, acts on consistency and reason, for all things, there is a cause. Take a cart sitting atop a hill. How would one consider that cart was bought there?"

"By a horse or a man," one of the students chime, his group far younger than many of the others, the oldest maybe fourteen and the youngest no more than ten.

"And how did you reach that conclusion?"

"The cart couldn't, of its own will, force itself atop a hill."

"Exactly, the cart lacks any agency in the world, it's a victim of cause. Now, as you're watching this cart, no many near it, you watch is begin to roll down the hill, rapidly gaining speed until it reaches the flat lands below, where is slows back to a stop. What caused this chain of events."

"Well, it must not have been secured, and simply rolled down."

The man smiles, "but why?" The children look to each other, one speaking up.

"Things naturally tend to go downwards."

"To an extent, that is correct. In fact, though, it's more complex than that. All things have innate to them a force exerted without the will or intention of its bearer. This force merely exists, and its exact reason is unknown, but we can quantify and measure the variables which most directly affects it. All things attract all other things with a force, an action that takes something from its current state of motion into another, as all things tend, not downwards, but to stay in their present state of velocity, based on their mass and their distance. While the distance from the center of mass of our planet is hundreds of times greater than the distance from me to you, the sheer mass of this great rock so outstrip us that it pulls all things on its surface down towards its center; it is only the force the surface exerts back on us that we do not tunnel our way to the center of this celestial ball. This force, gravity, exists, along with other forces, within the world. It is one we know much more about than others, though I would like to talk about a property of our world you are all already acquainted with." He holds out his hand, a small flame-stoking itself into existence, flickering lightly before dying out. "We call it magic," he says setting his hand to the side. "For centuries we've used and manipulated its properties, but still, we've only scratched the surface of its power. It seems that all things, that is to say, all matter, hold within it great energy. Living things seem to be able to harvest that energy. There is, to an extent, certain aptitude towards magics, a natural element which predisposes those to its power, but anybody can learn and even become a master of it. Some speculate this is no more the difference than a child learning to read faster than another, simply natural aptitude, some argue there is a biological barrier that gives some a leg up in the race as if they metabolize the energy in the world with greater efficiency. In truth, it's all merely speculation. We know we gain this power from matter."

"He's half right, I suppose," Seeker interjects, the lesson going on. "Matter and energy are no different from one another save for the state in which they're presented. This is how a mage might create a spire or a sculpture in the image of his fancy, or change the composition of hydrogen gas into helium. Turning energy into matter and taking the matter into energy. It applications focused by something unique that comes from true intelligence. It's where the consistency of the world ends, and the consistency of the mind begins." He sighs, "in any case, this man was, at one point, who I was. No longer, though, are we the same individual, to much time, to much experience between that man and I, no more alike than an infant to a conqueror. Not even our bodies are the same." The class was continuing as the seeker spoke, starting to explain fundamental principles of magic. Some of it sounded familiar to Star, things she found in her spell book, others were more alien, such as the use of "grounded spells" or runes.

"When did he become you?" Star asks, her voice ringing in the full illusion.

"Watch, and maybe you'll spend enough time trapped in this hell to see. If not, then it'll remain an incomplete story, inconsequential, perhaps, but incomplete. Watch on."

The scene shifts away, the sun falling over the horizon over a few moments, the world rolling forward at a rapid pace until the steps, which bustled with minds in the day, sat bare against the clear skyscape. Once again the world moved around them, the pair remaining motionless ghosts as the very planet itself shifted to a new perspective.

The insides feel cold, the stone halls lacking sufficient heat to keep themselves warm as the dessert nights drop the temperatures to distinct chills. The room that comes to them, however, holds a flickering fireplace crackling with a few charred pieces of palm wood, keeping the small stone office a cozier temperature. The younger teacher sits at the desk, pouring over a series of scrolls and printed manuscripts held together in pristine leather bindings. His own notes lie scattered across the table, a worry on his face. "It doesn't work," he says, his eyes gazing up to a peculiar outsider, having pale, but not white like the teacher's, skin and adorning himself in a black robe. His eyes shine in the firelight as if they were jade hunks.

"But it does, isn't that the most peculiar thing, don't you think? Something which ought not to work choosing to, in fact, work regardless. But I already told you that in our first meeting, of course, those years ago you seemed keener on scoffing at me." He leans back in his chair, rocking it back and forth with his foot, the wood creaking rhythmically under him.

"It took a lot of time to even gain access to the plans of the runes... They shouldn't function like they are written. I've done small scale work, tested them thoroughly. They would function only for a short time without additional energy what than the sun could provide, and the plans say these should be self-sustaining, requiring no large powering runes to function."

"That past's true, but what's powering them isn't the sun's energy. Your father had a knack for playing with powers out of his control, served him well, made him wiser, stronger, and gave him creations beyond which normal magic could ever create." The man smirks, his mouth curling into a cat's smile, "most people find that his sort of studies should be punished, harshly, but it takes a very clever man to do the deeds of a devil."

The younger man grits his teeth, "I don't appreciate you tarnishing my family..."

The conversation goes on circularly, no ground gained or loss as the frustrated teacher fought with too much obstinance to concede and the sitting figure to confident in his correctness to take the argument seriously. "Such a petulant man," seeker says as the scene freezes, the forms returning to darkness, leaving the room empty. "That was me, that imbecilic teacher who thought himself great. I decided to prove that man wrong... I would look at the designs first hand, prove that, even if the public records were false, his father brought water to the desert."

Star stepped forward, feeling like a person again as the sight of her arms and legs returns to her, as well do the sights of a fight with Hannibal. Seeker lays himself into the chair, leaning himself back just as the figure did. "My name was Arthur, but perhaps Icarus would have been more suitable, no, hmmmm... Icarus refused his bounds, I was merely a prideful child. How can it come that a society so enlightened in the arts of magic and science held such ignorant concepts as family honor."

"I can see how this ended," star says taking the teacher's seat, Arthurs seat. "What did you find. When you looked at his inventions."

"Who, might be a better question. I found three men. A man who died, a man who would die and a newborn." The scene shifts again, inside a sewer, of sorts, but the air and water clear and clean. The pair walks along the path of stone, one of either side of the rushing canal. "That man," she says pointing to the shadowy figure, "I met him. He would die in only a few short years, and I met myself, as I perished." The figures seem to speak, but the words didn't matter, it was possible, as well, that Seeker didn't care, or didn't remember. The walk through a low door, ducking in through the small hole.

Behind rests, a man, skin blacker than pitch, chained down into the pool and water pours out from his skin. A look of agony braces the beast, his red irises barely visible, his pupils dilated. And his screams. The monster broke out in harrowing shrieks of utter agony, but they subside as the water stops flowing. "You brought him," he says with a breathy tone, "you brought me his son?"

"Of course," the figure says, throwing back his hood, long black locks falling out to the small of his back. He raises a hand up, a white aura raising up, a speechless Author rising with him.

"Y-you're a demon! What is a vile creature doing in here!"

"He's quite observant, isn't he," the beast breathes out, a long tongue licking his lips. "Hmm, I need something from you Arthur."

The man flicks his wrist, pushing the teacher close to his nightmare. "Get away from me, why do you defile the sanctuary of my father, his masterpiece with your presence!"

The beast laughs, his voice echoing unnaturally, "you think your father found out how to do this? No, he was clever, but not brilliant. Your precious father used a demon to do his work, he enslaved me with a farce, trapped me here, promised me your blood in return. Instead, he chained me with his blasted magics. I need his blood to break it, which just so happens that your putrid body will do." He smiles maliciously, "but I only need a little. Just enough to break the curse, no more than a drop or two. No, I won't kill you, there's far too much agony I could put into you for me to simply rend your flesh from your bones." He opens his hand, filled with grizzled spikes lifting to rake across the teacher's arm, leaving it bloodied as he screams out. "Such a fool," he says, the chains breaking, "you should have let yourself be content."

The image stops there, the library fading back into reality, Seeker taking a seat in his chair. "What happened next?" Star asks, looking at the empty room.

"Genocide," he says in a detached, uncaring way. "I inadvertently brought about the mass genocide of my race. The beast flooded the water with toxins. It took only a few hours, but eventually, everyone was left dead. The beast decided that the only fitting punishment for me was to curse me to feel the suffering of all who shared my race. For those three hours, my mind was awash with the pain of an entire city-state painfully dying." His voice was unwavering, solemn, as if to remember the dead, but lacked the twangs of guilt or sorrow. "Their deaths were meaningless, but it wasn't my fault. I only hastened the inevitable. Some season he would have escaped and destroyed us, whether it would have been that generation or one later down the line, it would have been my father who damned them."

"Who was the man, the one that tricked you," Star says as she takes a seat across from him, her mind turning, perplexed by the nonchalance of Seeker.

"A power hungry fool. He died at the hand of the beast a few years later, his contract running up. None of that matters, though. All of that lies in the annals of a dead civilization, forgotten. Too long in the past, for it to weigh on me, there is more recent dead to grieve. What matter, though, is that my agony forced a sort of ascension. The beast slashed my throat after the last of my brethren had fallen and left me to die in the same chamber he had been imprisoned, awash in a pool of water and blood. In that pool, feeling the pain embedded in my very soul, hating myself, hating my father, hating that demon, I was reborn. It wasn't flashy, there was no ceremony. I passed out, then I woke up. I woke up inside the room where I died for the first time."

Star flinches, suddenly drawn away from the world of her head, the girl nearly falling out of her chair as she's startled. She watches the long blade of a soldier puncture Alexander, the Seeker, through the stomach. "Ah, you've just been." she trails off.

"Stabbed? I remember that I've been stabbed quite a few times. No scares, though."

Star looks on blankly, her head turning about in the fortress of books as she peers into the waking world, watching the scene play out, Marco's stupid heroism pushing to the forefront.


End file.
